


I'll bury you again but may you rise.

by PrinceofHellebore (PrinceofPlants)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18 month gap, Angst, Asexual Zolf Smith, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Developing Relationship, Gen, Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quarantine, Survival, Tags May Change, WIP, no beta we die like men, they only have each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceofPlants/pseuds/PrinceofHellebore
Summary: Oscar shows up at Zolf's hideout, dying from sustained injuries.  its the first step in a relationship that will build itself on trust and desperation as they both try to forget their losses long enough to save the world.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 64
Kudos: 78





	1. Not Yet, Mr. Smith

**Author's Note:**

> Right, well I fell face first into this fandom after binge-ing RQG over the last two weeks. so here I am. I wasn't planning on this being a long thing but then I never do. Warning I don't have any idea were I'm going with this, we're headed for a mystery port, my friends.

Zolf returned to his lodging late. He’d been residing in the derelict building for the better part of a month as it was the only shelter available while he carried out Harlequin business in the outskirts of Paris. His door didn’t have a lock, the rotted out frame was too easy to break for any lock to be worthwhile but he had rigged other signs to warn him of intruders. He looked at them carefully now as he approached and found them undisturbed so he entered. Inside however was altered. Light came from down the hall and there was a warmth in the gust of air that should have been icy and more alarming still was the smear of blood down the wall. 

So far Zolf had been lucky not to need confront the possibility of a hostile intruder; he’d not been found or disturbed for all the time that he’d worked for the Harlequins. But he had now. He should leave, find a new residence and continue his work. 

He didn’t though, something had piqued his curiosity. Someone wishing him harm would surely try to hide their presence, not announce it so openly. He carried with him a short handled ax, a tool more than a weapon but he raised it, ready to lash out with it at the first provocation. He stepped forward, cringing at every clank of his prostheses. 

Firelight spilled from the door down the hall and so he crept in that direction until he dashed through the door, ax lifted high. Nothing jumped out at him, instead everything was as he had left it save a tall man sprawled in one of the chairs by the fire.

“Wilde,” Zolf said, anxiety leaving him, replaced by surprise and then caution. Wilde had been working for the meritocracy, and his whereabouts had been unknown for months now. Wilde didn’t stir at the sound of his voice. Zolf lowered the ax and watched for a moment aware of the danger posed. A new threat had crept across Europe and haunted those working in the resistance. Harlequins had been betrayed and killed by supposed allies. It was why for the most part Zolf lived and worked alone, his orders picked up from a drop point, his findings left in a secret location to be picked up in turn. “Wilde,” Zolf said again, more forcefully. Nothing.

Zolf approached, cautiously watching every step for a sign that Wilde was feigning. As he closed the distance to ten, then five feet he saw more clearly the source of the blood. Wilde had a rip down the shadowed side of his face, cut from his brow, down past the the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t his only wound. Wilde’s arm was folded across his body; the hand and sleeve were stained with blood that oozed from a rent in his waistcoat. 

Zolf extended his ax so the blade rested at Wilde’s throat and then laid a hand down beside that wound. He wasn’t sure that magic would come, he was exhausted and, well Poseidon didn’t favor him any longer. He reached out, hoping, wishing, for magic to heal Wilde and felt the warmth of it spread down his arm. He could feel Wilde ease. Zolf concentrated again, though doubted he’d be capable of more than that before resting. Zolf scrutinized Wilde’s face before deciding it was safe to close his eyes and feel for what was wrong with him. He found only, the wound to Wilde’s face, the deep stab wound in his side, half healed now, and a long scratch down Wilde’s other arm. None of them would kill him.

“I thought you were going to drown me.” Zolf’s eyes opened and he staggered back, ax slipping from its threatening place. Wilde’s eyes were open and regarding Zolf with amusement, never-mind the blade that now nicked his collar. 

“I’m not a cleric of Poseidon any longer.” Zolf answered and then continued. “How did you find me? What do you want?”

“I’ll not ask you to remove your blade it is wise for you to keep it at my throat. Though,” he swallowed, an action that seemed to pain him, “could I trouble you for some water, please.” 

That ‘please’ was so unlike Wilde that Zolf nearly lowered the blade then. “I don’t have a cup to hand.”

“Later then, just if I cough try not to take off my head.”

“Right,” Zolf was inclined to hurry him towards an explanation but found himself too perplexed by Wilde’s condition to do so. Instead he just returned Wilde’s stare and waited.

“I found you because you stayed in one place and I have… had contacts that were able to track you. What I want is someone that I can know is safe. As I understand it you haven’t had direct contact with anyone in, has it been a month since you last saw anyone, spoke to anyone, touched anyone. That’s all ruined now that I’m here, but still…” he trailed off.

“What’s that to do with anything.”

“I think you know perfectly well. You’ve suspected for a long time and taken abundant cautions to protect yourself and your organization. I speak of course of the betrayals, the deaths, your allies turned, poisoned against you. I think you’d like to know what I’ve found out.” His voice was turning into a rasp. Perhaps Zolf had missed an injury, inhaled smoke maybe, or something else.

“What have you found out?” he demanded.

“I can’t say yet. You should be safe… but there’s no guarantee that I am. I had set up a safe house, but in my current state, I don’t know that I’ll be able to take us there, or that it hasn’t been compromised. I was attacked nearby its location. If I turn I’ve already made arrangements for what I know to be sent to Madam Curie. Can you remain here for seven days?”

“I think I have supplies for seven days for myself but not for two. How do you propose we do this?”

Wilde gestured to his feet, there was a small bag there. “Inside will be what you need to hold me. I’ll not resist. I might suggest you chain me so that I can’t attack you.” Zolf frowned and Wilde added, “It’s up to you and of course I won’t unless I’ve been infected.”

“You think this is an infection. Not some mind control curse?”

“It’s spread is too vast, its an infection, I don’t know how it transfers: through contact, proximity, touch, breath, word? But it spreads like a disease.”

“Okay then.” Zolf finally lowered the ax, “I’m too tired to be able to heal you magically, that will have to wait until I’ve rested, but I have salves and bandages, so that’s something.” Wilde made an attempt at leaning forward to pick the sack up from the floor but winced. “Sorry, I barely had enough to stabilize you.” Zolf stooped and picked up the bag for him. It was heavy for its size.

“Open it.” Wilde instructed, voice briefly returning to strength. Zolf undid the ties and pulled the neck wide. He wasn’t able to see inside the depths in the dim light. He dropped it in Wilde’s lap instead.

“You get out what you think we need.”

“Wise, this is why I came to you. That is the type of caution that will keep us safe.” Wilde reached into the bag up to his elbow. Ah, it was a bag of holding, that explained its disproportionate weight, and the obscured contents. Wilde withdrew a pair of tarnished circlets that looked sized for his wrists. 

“What are those,” Zolf asked, pointing at the circlets. 

“Anti-magic field generator.” Wilde said.

“I’m not wearing them.” Zolf said. 

“They aren’t for you, they’re for me. A necessity these days.”

“Why?” Asked Zolf skeptically.

Wilde’s lips twisted, “I may explain after the seven days, suffice it to say that my life depends on them.”

“Ominous.”

Wilde fiddled with them and the metal shifted in his fingers, widening enough to slip his hands through and then closing again. The change was dramatic. Zolf had thought Wilde looked in decent health despite his recent injuries but it was clear that had been an illusion. Wilde was flushed with fever, dark circles appeared beneath his eyes amd his gaze was dulled with exhaustion. His hair was short, only an inch or so of ragged growth, matted with blood and rain. His clothes were in bad repair. 

“Why do you bother with all that?”

“It costs me little and gains me much.”

“If you say so. Now I don’t see the point of those bracelets if you can take them off at will.”

“I can’t. If I press here and here,” Wilde pinched two pressure points, “nothing will happen. If you do it…” He held up his wrist and Zolf reached out, pinching as Wilde had, “you see they come right off.” The bracelet had expanded in that intricate fashion and Wilde was able to withdraw his hand. Zolf saw now the wound he had felt on Wilde’s arm when he had delved.

“Well, I guess that’s good enough for me. I’ll fetch my kit and see what I can do for you.” 

Wilde slipped the bracelet back over his wrist and nodded. “some water, please.”

“Right,” Zolf nodded and left the room.

Mr. Smith returned with his kit and a tankard which he passed to Oscar. Oscar took it with his uninjured arm and sipped. The water tasted metallic but it soothed the rawness of his throat. He imagined still the feeling of fire on his tongue, the ash left in his mouth and the burn of smoke in his lungs from that final desperate spell. He sighed deeply, feeling that his chest ached besides the pang from the knife wound in his side. Mr. Smith had taken his hand and removed the bracelet from it and rolled up Oscar’s sleeve to take a look at the cut that ran from the knuckles almost to the inside of his elbow. It was thankfully shallow, though it stung. 

“I can heal this in the morning, I’d stitch it otherwise,” Mr. Smith was saying to him. Or perhaps he was merely announcing it to the room and not to Oscar at all. “For now I think, cleaning and bandages.” 

Oscar took another grateful sip of water. “That I’m sure will do.”

“It’ll sting,” Mr. Smith warned pulling a bottle from his kit.

“No worse than when I got it,” countered Oscar. 

Mr. Smith made a face and then doused a cloth in the bottle’s contents and proceeded to press it to the wound. Oscar failed to keep his hiss behind his teeth and saw Mr. Smith’s mouth curl grimly. “I did say.”

Mr. Smith cleaned the wound, gently and wrapped his arm with enough pressure to keep it from seeping too much. When he’d finished Mr. Smith looked up into Oscar’s face and then reached out a hand, tilting Oscar’s chin so that light could fall on the cut across his cheek. Mr. Smith stared for a long time, Oscar had met his gaze at first but then let his eyes slide sideways and down towards the fire. He’d seen pity in his stare and it turned his stomach. He didn’t deserve pity. He deserved derision, scorn for trusting an old friend too well. 

“Do you know what kind of weapon did this? Its not clean…”

“Dagger, its edge was dipped in acid I think, or a poison possibly.”

“No, I think you’d be dead if it was poison. So probably acid. I can’t heal this cleanly. You’ll bear the scar. I’m sorry, if I was a more subtle healer maybe but I don’t know who we could go to.”

“Then I’ll bear it as a reminder of my mistakes.”

Mr. Smith looked like he was going to say something but clearly changed his mind and said instead, “I have something a little kinder for this, I think.” It took a moment of rummaging in his bag. The poultice he applied gingerly to Oscar’s cheek smelled of the sea, bright and wild and bitter. Oscar held tensely still as he worked and while he tried to keep his focus on the fire it twitched back to Mr. Smith’s face frequently.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith” He said, jaw moving against the dwarf’s firm grip.

“I’ll thank you not to move.” Oscar sighed and pulled his eyes back to the dying fire. He’d set it poorly before he’d collapsed into the chair. Mr. Smith daubed a bit more of the poultice into the Oscar’s split eyebrow. “That should do for now. Last thing, do you think you can stand long enough to remove your coat and shirt so I can get a better look at your ribs?”

Oscar looked up at him coldly. It had been at least since the Artemis lot had looked him over in Damascus since anyone had seen him bare. In his current state it felt far too vulnerable. “I thought you’d healed that.”

“I think you can feel that I didn’t finish. Come, it’d be a shame if I missed something and you died in the night.”

“Mr. Smith, I didn’t think you cared.”

“I mean the waste of poultice, its not come by easily anymore. You know you get sharp when you’re defensive.”

“I’m always sharp.”

Oscar caught the briefest smile. “Well, you’ll want fresh clothes anyway.” And he found no argument for that. 

It took nearly half an hour for them to gently pull his waistcoat, a tragic loss, and shirt away from the encrusted blood that glued them to his side. Mr. Smith washed the edges until it released and then prodded gently at the healing he’d performed. “I think this will keep till the morrow too, just a bandage to protect it…” he wadded clean rags against it and then wrapped Oscar’s torso with a long strip to hold it in place. His fingers brushing over Oscar’s skin was uncomfortably intimate. 

“Do you have spare clothes in that bag of yours?”

“Yes,” Oscar reached in and pulled a wrinkled shirt and robe from the bag. Mr. Smith helped him shrug into them. 

“Tea?” Mr. Smith asked. 

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Oscar replied, sitting again.

“You can call me Zolf, now, I think.” Mr. Smith said as he left the room.

“Not yet, Mr. Smith.”


	2. Take Your Clothes Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning.

The next morning when Zolf returned to the sitting room he found Wilde exactly as he had left him the night before. He was still asleep, woolen blanket folded primly across his lap and head tilted into the winged back of the chair. He looked even worse in the sunlight coming through the cracked window, though that was probably only due to the brightness illuminating all that Zolf had missed previously. 

Zolf debated waking Wilde but decided against it. If Wilde was comfortable enough to sleep so soundly then healing could be postponed until he’d woken naturally. Instead Zolf put on water for tea and fried eggs for his breakfast. While he ate he considered the possibilities Wilde had hinted at the previous night. Wilde had been tracking the infection, he knew the answers, or some answers. Zolf had run up against dead end after dead end and it was only getting more dangerous. Perhaps Wilde had some leads, perhaps he knew where to go next. Perhaps… maybe he knew more of what had happened to the rest of the Rangers. Information wasn’t getting passed back down the lines of communication and Zolf's inquiries had been ignored. He missed Sasha and Hamid; it all would have been so much easier to bear if he’d had them here, if he had a team he could trust. It’d be easier if he had people to bounce ideas off of, as it was… well, he seemed to have Wilde now, whether he wanted him or not. It was probably time to check on him again. 

Zolf drained his teacup and then piled it on his plate and stood. As he turned around he was met with the sight of Wilde, standing in the doorway with a long thin blade leveled at him. “Good morning,” Zolf said, trying to quash any surprise he felt. Wilde shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on him. “How’d you do that?”

“Take your clothes off.” Wilde’s face was as deadly and uncaring as a cliff-face in a storm.

“What are you on about…” Zolf realized he was still holding his plate and teacup and turned to put them by the basin to wash. The tip of the blade followed him unerringly. 

“I said take your clothes off.” 

“Why?” Zolf folded his arms and leaned against the bench. He could be stony faced too.

“The infection.” Wilde slumped sideways into the doorframe and remained leaning there, even so the blade didn’t so much as tremble. “You can see it, if you know what to look for.”

“Perhaps I should heal you before...”

Wilde interrupted. “You’ll not touch me until I can see that you’re unaffected.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” Zolf countered.

“I was delirious and more than half dead.” Wilde took a breath, and Zolf could tell that Wilde was at the end of his strength. He was using every bit he had gained from his night of sleep to intimidate Zolf into compliance. 

“How about a compromise, let’s go back to the fire in the other room, you sit down before you fall down and then I’ll take my clothes off.”

“Fine.” Wilde flourished the weapon, retracting it to his side but did not sheath it. He also backed down the hall, unwilling to give his back to Zolf or have him pass too close. Upon reaching the sitting room Wilde did sit down, fingers still curled around the hilt of the blade, which Zolf could now see was a cane-sword. 

“I’m guessing you’re not going to give me a little privacy while I undress.”

“I can’t say I see the point.” But Wilde’s focus moved from Zolf’s face towards the fire. It was as much decency as he was going to get it seemed. Zolf turned his back on Wilde and stripped his shirt and trousers off. He still wore his undergarments but was bare from the waist up. “Everything.”

Zolf glared at him. “Will you return the favor?” He spat, annoyed that Wilde was being so indecent.

“If you wish.” 

Zolf frowned for a moment and then relented. “Alright,” he said, and Wilde returned his focus to him. The intensity of his scrutiny was like nothing Zolf had experienced before, he felt a flush rising in his cheeks and across his chest. Wilde made a twirling gesture with his free hand and Zolf wanted to throw something at him, but he turned slowly on the spot.

“Thank you, we’ll have to do this every morning.” Wilde returned his gaze to the fire.

Zolf stooped to pick up his clothes and donned them hurriedly. “Right, well that was mortifying, no reason not to repeat it tomorrow.”

“It must be done.” Wilde’s voice was flat. “My friend, the person that did this,” He gestured to his face and his side, was marked, but not across his face or hands or anywhere that I could see. He said he hadn’t been in contact with anyone and I trusted his word. There is no trust to be had save that which you have in your own eyes.”

“Right, you want to be healed now or not.”

“Yes,” Wilde sheathed the blade in his cane. “You’ll have to take these off,” he said holding out his wrists. Zolf approached and unlocked the pair of cuffs then laid hands on Wilde to heal him. The only wound Zolf could see was the one on Wilde’s face and normally healing returned simple wounds to unmarked flesh but as Zolf had predicted this one didn’t, instead it formed a long pale pink scar. It was the best Zolf could do for it. He reached down for Wilde’s arm and rolled back his sleeve and then the neatly wrapped cloth bandage. The skin beneath was flecked with dried blood but that wound was gone as if it had never been. 

Zolf stepped back. “Your turn.” Wilde stood lithely. Zolf hadn’t realized, without the comparison how stiffly and slowly Wilde had been moving previously. Wilde shrugged free of his robe and then unbuttoned his shirt and shed it. All the time keeping steady eye contact with Zolf. As Wilde started on the buttons of his trousers Zolf turned his back.

“Hmmm.” Wilde muttered. After a moment more he said, “Ready.”

Zolf turned back to him. He’d undone the bandage about his ribs and that wound was fully healed too. Wilde pivoted slowly. “Is it just blue veins that I’m looking for?” Zolf asked

“So far its the only sign that I’m sure of. And seven days is precautionary the interval seems to be shorter from what I’ve experienced.”

“I don’t see any.”

“If you do, you’re to kill me,” said Wilde. He started putting his clothes back on. 

Zolf stood frozen, staring at how matter of fact Wilde was about it. “There’s no other option?”

“Not if someone is to eventually succeed with our mission. Allowing the infection to spread amongst our allies is the death of the world we knew. If it helps anyone infected won’t be your friend for long.” Wilde was finishing with the button at his collar. “Does this place have a tub.”

“No, there’s just the basin out the back, its cold, but I can at least warm some water for you to wash your hair.”

“Thank you.”


	3. Percolator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf discovers that Wilde isn't good at self care.

After Oscar had washed and dressed he returned to the sitting room, feeling much refreshed. Mr. Smith sat on the settee with a book, but closed it on his finger as Oscar passed. Oscar went to the arm chair and picked up his bag of holding. There was a large unused writing desk in the room and Oscar started to lay out his work across it. His piles were untidy as his previous departure had been made with haste. 

“There’s a second room upstairs, but there’s no furnishing. Do you have a bedroll?”

“No, I wasn’t planning on this. What I have with me is only the most essential items.”

“I have an extra, you’ll stick out the end though.”

“It will have to do, we’ll better supply ourselves at the next opportunity. I hadn’t actually planned to make contact with you until I’d met with Curie. But I ended up without a good option.”

“I’ll set it out for you.” Mr. Smith said as he got up and left the room.

“Thank you,” said Oscar and continued with his paperwork. The desk was large enough that Oscar was able to spread the various piles of papers, scraps, dossiers and notes out. There was no lamp but there was enough light in the room to allow Oscar to work. Mr. Smith brought him a simple bowl of stew at some point in the day. Oscar ate a few bites and then forgot about it until it was cold. He finished it off later anyway. After sunset he had to shift to the chair by the fire to continue reading. 

“I’m going to bed,” Mr. Smith said as he passed by the doorway, pausing a moment to look at Oscar.

Oscar glanced up briefly at him and saw that he seemed to be waiting for some sort of acknowledgment. “Goodnight, Mr. Smith.”

“You should get some sleep. This week is time for us to prepare and that means being rested.”

“Noted, Mr. Smith.” Oscar turned a page as dismissively as possible and saw in his peripheral vision that Mr. Smith had gone away. Oscar listened to the dwarf stomp up the stairs and heard him move about his room above for a while longer. Oscar kept reading. He was growing more frustrated by the threads of his research, so much was pointing towards the Shoin Institute but said little of what they could expect or hope to find there. Correspondence with the head of the institute either ended abruptly or just as quickly turned into nonsense. He shifted to a letter from a contact that was still near London. He had many such reports, his meritocratic network was in tatters but the tatters still told him things, there were still signals that alerted him to news. This particular letter was asking for a meeting which was becoming both riskier but also likely to bear the most leads. Oscar read it again then set it aside, sighing.

Zolf woke early the next morning and stretched. For the first night in many he’d felt comfortable disconnecting his metal legs from their sockets and had rested better for it. He positioned and connected them. He was never sure if he merely imagined the invasive feeling when they slotted into place or if the sensation was real. The simulacrum technology had too many bad memories for him to be fully at peace with using them. He left his room and found that Wilde’s door was open. He stuck his head in to see that the bedroll was untouched. “That daft idiot. He never went to bed!”

Zolf stomped downstairs and found the sitting room empty too but there was noise in the kitchen, a bubbling hiss. Zolf followed the sound in. Wilde leaned against the table, elbows locked, hands clutching the edge and white knuckled as though that was all that was holding him up. He was staring at the stove where there sat a curious little hourglass machine. 

“Morning, sleep well?” Zolf asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Wilde said without so much as turning.

“And where did you sleep?”

“Ah,” Wilde glanced at Zolf, and looked guilty enough that Zolf could easily guess that he either fell asleep slumped over his desk or lounging in the wingback chair. 

“What’s that?”

“A percolator. For coffee.” Wilde answered. The noise it was making shifted and Wilde levered himself away from the table and removed it from the stove. He poured his coffee into a small handle-less cup. “Would you like some?”

“No, thank you, I prefer tea.” Zolf declined and set the kettle on the spot the percolator had just occupied. “I’m making breakfast, do you want some?”

“If you make enough for two, I’ll eat some.” Wilde headed out of the kitchen. “We’ll do inspections after.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Zolf sarcastically.

On the fifth night of their isolation Zolf finally caught Wilde passed out over his desk. The percolator sat next to him, still warm. Zolf thought about merely throwing the wool blanket over him and leaving him for the night. Perhaps a crick in the neck would teach Wilde, though it hadn’t so far. Instead Zolf laid a hand gently down on Wilde’s shoulder. Wilde’s body tensed and then he slowly raised himself back up as if he could pretend he hadn’t fallen asleep. His hand reached out for his cup of coffee and Zolf smacked his fingers.

“Absolutely not.” Zolf said. 

Wilde looked at him offended then said calmly, “this is important, it needs doing.”

“Sleep is important. It needs doing. Now go to bed.”

“No thank you.” Wilde’s hands started searching over the papers straightening them and stacking, then finally plucking one from the pile. His eyes traced up and down it.

Zolf snatched the page away from him. “You will go to bed, you will sleep for eight hours, just because you’re not exhausting yourself with magic doesn’t mean you can stop sleeping. Now, go upstairs and go to bed so I don’t have to burn these to stop you killing yourself.”

“Fine.” Wilde stood, picking up his percolator and cup, “I’ll just wash these and then retire.”

“I don’t think so.” Zolf plucked the machine out of his hands; it was absurdly easy, Wilde’s reflexes were so dull with the lack of sleep. “Go upstairs and I’ll take care of them.” Wilde tugged on the hem of his waistcoat and adjusted his cuffs and then with his head held high took himself out of the room and up the stairs. Zolf did empty the percolator then washed it and the cup, and after returned to the sitting room and banked the fire. Wilde’s door was shut when he finally climbed the stairs. 

Zolf heard Wilde rise as he was finishing his lunch just after midday. He came into the kitchen looking almost worse than when Zolf had forced him to bed the night before. 

“Are you alright?” Zolf asked. 

“I’m fine. I’ll be better after some coffee.” And he set to preparing the stove and the percolator. 

Zolf watched him for a moment. “It’s okay to not be fine. I’d understand. I know that I haven’t been fine for a lot of this.” Wilde’s back was still to him but he turned his head far enough to consider Zolf out of the corner of his eye. It was like getting eyed by the ravens at the tower back in London. After a moment, Wilde turned around.

“There is not a lot I can contribute to our fight.” He raised his hand briefly, the tarnished cuff was visible as his sleeve slipped downward. “What I can do is translate and decode and make connections and get information. Everyday that this spreads puts the resistance more and more at risk. And I can’t…”

Zolf looked up at him, brow softening in empathy. Hadn’t he felt the same a dozen times. “I know, but we are going to have to be at the top of our game when we do move from here. Being exhausted will mean mistakes. Mistakes will mean best case, death, worst we hand over significant weapons to our enemy.”

Wilde’s defiant eye contact dropped and he nodded. “Yes, you are right.” And he turned his back to Zolf again. 

Zolf left Wilde to work until late evening and then chivied him to bed again, Wilde was less resistant this time. Zolf was very glad that their quarantine was over tomorrow and that he might finally get both answers and get to act on them.


	4. A stack of trashy novels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine is finally ended and Zolf might finally get some answers out of WIlde.

Oscar woke before Mr. Smith on the last day of quarantine. He had to admit that even with the too-short-bedroll and haunting dreams that he felt better than he had in… he didn’t remember. Paris maybe, before it went bad. He rubbed at his wrists enclosed in the silver cuffs, wishing he could have them off.

He went down to the kitchen and made coffee and then put water on for tea. It came to a boil just before Mr. Smith came down. Wilde poured the water into the prepared teapot and turned. “Mr. Smith, if we do our inspection first I can tell you what I know over breakfast and then we can plan our next move.”

“Alright, I’d thought that I’d just follow whatever directive I’d received.”

“Your next directive would have been to meet with me.”

“Well then, I’m not sure how I can add to this conversation.”

“I think you may know or remember things from your adventure that have escaped my notes, it may help set a more direct course to the end of this. At least we can hope.”

Mr. Smith nodded. “Fine, inspections then breakfast.”

They settled into chairs around the desk in the sitting room to talk. “Your initial investigations actually still hold the strongest leads. The connections in Prague, Cairo and Damascus have already been tracked down by your former associates.”

“Where are they? Nobody has given me a straight answer.”

Oscar swallowed a sip of coffee and set his cup down on the table. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t have to break this news. “Rome. Well, they were in Rome nine months ago. It wasn’t a sanctioned mission and nothing has been heard from them. The two new members of the group were as competent and talented as Sasha and Hamid were. If anyone could return from Rome I believe they could. However, it has been too long since we have had any word for us to depend or hang our hopes on their return. There is a scout that goes to a rendezvous point to look for them periodically. I do not know how much longer Curie will allow him to continue that investment of resources into what is likely to be a lost cause.” Oscar paused and then added, “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Smith nodded solemnly. Oscar gave him a moment but when he didn’t see any outward show of emotion he continued with his initial thread. “The leads that we have left are the seed which would take us to Svalbard. The other is the Shoin Institute in Japan. Seeing as the seed was lost with Hamid, Svalbard is probably not our most pressing matter. On the other hand Yoshida Shoin has corresponded with Francois Henri, and was shipping something to Damascus. It seems the clearest path forward to go there to investigate.” 

“We’ll need more people. Neither of us is skilled in breaking and entering. And now only one of us is all that good in a fight.”

“I know, I’ve been trying to put together a new team for the last three months. I think I’ve tracked down the people that will round out our skill set. The first I think you know, a British Navy Captain turned privateer when the meritocracy dissolved. His name is Barnes.

“Yes, he got me Court-Marshalled.”

“I hope there are no hard feelings.”

“He was very polite about it.”

“The other is Howard Carter, who was actually caught by the others before their mission in Damascus. He’s been on the Harlequin’s watchlist since. He’s currently doing odd jobs for Curie but since we have a great need we’ll pick him up on the way to Japan.”

“And Barnes?”

“He’s waiting for us in Cherbourg, and with your help he’ll sail us to Portsmouth. I have a contact waiting for us there in a safe house. After we’ll make our way to Cairo then Japan where we will have our work cut out for us. There isn’t even the leftover scraps of Meritocratic rule there so I have limited resources in that area, we’ll go well funded but that is not necessarily enough. How are you at languages?”

“Notably bad.”

“Alright. Unfortunate but at least honest.” Oscar made a note. His own Japanese was passable in reading and writing, he’d had fewer opportunities to practice speaking. 

“Is it possible for you to leave me in Cherbourg and pick me up on the way back.”

“Why?”

“I’ve not been on the sea since I gave up my trident. There’s no saying what Poseidon might bring against whatever boat I’m on.”

Oscar paused, he hadn’t considered the consequence of a vengeful sea god might have on them… “No I think the risk is worse in splitting up. It’s a short crossing. We’ll have to manage. We’ll make our other travel across land where possible. The weather at sea is terrible anyway, we’d likely shipwreck even without Poseidon wading in.” Oscar’s eyes glinted with amusement for a brief moment but it was lost when Mr. Smith failed to notice the pun. Oscar sighed.

“Oh, I heard it. I just thought it was below your usual effort.” Mr. Smith said. 

“It was a perfectly good pun. The fact that I’ve had no one to sharpen my wit against for the last week is hardly my fault.”

“When are we heading out?”

“You don’t happen to know how to drive do you?”

“No, I certainly don’t, Also I’d walk to Cherbourg before I got back in one of those contraptions.”

“Train then, there’s one this afternoon. I have everything important here with me." Oscar gestured over his papers. "So if you can be packed and ready to go, we’ll head on today.”

“Very good, I’ll need an hour. You have a disguise don’t you, you’ll stick out like a green carnation.”

“I think you’ll find I’m quite capable of remaining unnoticed.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Mr. Smith got up and spent the next hour slowly bringing together his possessions from about the house. There was a lot he was leaving behind, though curiously the stack of trashy novels was stuffed away in a pack.

Oscar remained working until Mr. Smith came back to him. “I’m all packed.”

“Right, good. Just a moment.” He opened the bag of holding and swept his papers into it except for a thin ribbon that had words running around it. 

“What’s that?”

“A… curse, sort of.” Oscar picked it up and read, “the only thing worse than being talked about, is not being talked about.” He then took it and tied it around his neck and hid it under his cravat.

“And that’s supposed to…”

“People won’t be able to talk about seeing me.”

“How does that work, you can’t do magic.”

“I used to be able to.” Oscar countered.

“As long as it works.”

“It does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't chock full of angsty character development but I promise thats upcoming. Thanks again for reading.


	5. Seven Days, No Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes is neutral to see them.

Their journey after they left the house was thankfully unremarkable. They purchased train tickets: Zolf found it impossible to say ‘My companion and I would like…’ and had to amend it to merely ‘Two first class tickets to Cherbourg, 2:47 please.’ Upon entering the train they made their way to their private compartment and locked the door. The trip was short and they were met by a storm, not terrible but miserably wet, the kind that would likely stick around for days. Wilde turned up the collar of his overcoat, and pulled an umbrella from the depths of his bag of holding. Zolf almost laughed. The things Wilde considered essential was certainly skewed. Zolf turned up his collar but had no hat. Wilde noticed and held the umbrella slightly wide so that they could both walk below its protection. Wilde then set off leading them from the station down a cobbled lane that headed out of town. Eventually, he turned down a cart track to a small stone cottage. 

“If you’d be so kind as to arm yourself.” Wilde said, drawing his sword from the shaft of his walking stick. 

“I thought we were meeting Barnes.”

“That’s precisely the point.” Wilde rapped the door with the tip of his stick and then retreated behind Zolf who had gotten out his short-handled ax.

The door opened inward and Barnes stood there, curved sword in his hand but not raised.

“Hello Wilde, Smith.” He said. “Come in?” He backed away from the door, not turning from them.

“Do you have the supplies I asked for?” Wilde asked as he entered, Zolf following. 

“Yes, seven days worth of food for three people, as you requested. The sloop is pulled up on shore, we can take her as soon as you’re satisfied.”

“It will be seven days, no less.” The door opened not into a hall but directly into a large room furnished with rough-hewn furniture. Zolf shut the door behind them. Wilde proceeded into the room, angling towards a table. He laid his blade across it and then started to shed his outer layers. 

Barnes too laid his weapon down. “You really are going to insist, aren’t you?”

“Our security demands it. Mr. Smith, you as well.”

Zolf sighed but followed suit. He’d gotten used to the matter-of-fact-ness of the whole thing. Wilde’s scrutiny was still intense but his flat disinterest after he’d determined you were safe at least reduced the embarrassment a little.

“Looks like we are all fine for now.” Barnes said pulling his trousers back up. Wilde nodded but said nothing. 

It seemed that they were to spend another week here so as to verify Barnes. Zolf thought it was perhaps overkill as Barnes had been living alone in a town that was thus far unaffected by the infection. Wilde settled quickly into the chair behind the table.

“There’s just the kitchen and bedroom through there,” Barnes pointed through the other doors. “I don’t know… where you’d prefer to layout bedrolls…”

“I guess we’ll set up out here.” Zolf glanced at Wilde, and sighed. “Do you have an extra bedroll that's human sized?”

“Yes, I have a kit made up for Wilde, he warned that he might be light on equipment by the time he made it here.”

“Great.”

The week went quietly. Zolf was even able to convince Wilde to put his work down at a reasonable hour most nights. He often saw Wilde fingering the cuffs he was wearing. “You never explained…” Zolf hesitated, Wilde hadn’t promised to tell him why he now wore an anti-magic device, “You never explained what you needed those for.”

Wilde set the page he’d been taking notes on down and looked at Zolf carefully. “I suppose it may prove to be information you need to know.” He glanced up to locate Barnes but he had already retired to the bedroom. “I was cursed, repeatedly, from afar, sometime after Prague and before events in Damascus. We think it likely that I am being targeted by a group of people wishing to keep me out of commission. It started as a slow thing and I didn’t notice symptoms of it until I was really… compromised.” He swallowed and ran his fingers over the cuffs. “You’ve seen my… habits… regarding sleep. I always worked long hours and all night frequently enough that the shift was unnoticeable. Without these, I simply can’t sleep. The attack is against my mind and sleep isn’t the only thing I’m loosing. These are so far the only protection that I’ve found.”

“You weren’t wearing them when you came to me.”

“No, I’d removed them because of my friend.” Wilde reached up and stroked the scar on his cheek. “It’s not safe for me to go without them, I risked it. While I was on my own…” He looked down at his paperwork. “I had been taking them off, to prepare spells so that I could protect myself.”

“Like the ribbon.” Wilde nodded. “Who took them off?” Zolf asked.

Wilde got that guilty look again. “I did.” He traced around the left cuff and it expanded and then he did the same to the right one.

“You couldn’t, you showed me…" Zolf spluttered, then realized, "a trick.”

“This one can’t be opened without a magical resonance,” Wilde held up one, “this one it doesn’t matter,” he held up the other. “They are only effective in tandem."

“Please don’t lie to me in future.”

“I won’t make that promise. Our mission matters more than our feelings, than our lives. I’ll do what I think necessary.”

“You didn’t need to lie about that. I’m dedicated to this too. I hope you can trust that I’m committed to at least the same level you are. I don’t need to be manipulated.”

“As you say, Mr. Smith, I will amend my statement to: I will not lie to you on a whim or because its easier.” Wilde put the cuffs back on.

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that. It’s late now, time to sleep.” Zolf turned the lamp on the table down so that it was impossible to read by its light. 

Wilde frowned but stood and stretched. “If you insist.”

Zolf woke in the early hours of the morning, there was no light from the cottage windows and the fire had turned to ashes and glowing charcoal. It still admitted a steady heat. Zolf couldn’t tell what had woken him until he sat up. Wilde turned fitfully in his bedroll and muttered. It was something he would have slept through before but he’d been so dependent on his own awareness to protect him that the smallest sounds now disturbed his sleep. 

Zolf watched for a moment and Wilde stilled. As he settled back to the floor to try to sleep a little longer Wilde took a sharp breath and startled awake and upright. “Bosie!” His hand flew to his fresh scar, holding it as if the wound was newly received. 

Zolf could hear his shaky breath. “Wilde,” he said softly, trying to break gently into Wilde’s awareness. Wilde snapped around to face Zolf. His eyes were glistening in the brief moment Zolf had before Wilde turned away again. He watched Wilde wipe at his eyes and then shift to rearranging his blankets to lie down again.

“Wilde, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”


	6. Wilde's Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf, Barnes and Wilde cross the channel to meet up with Wilde's contact.

Seven days passed with none of them showing signs of infection. Wilde turned suddenly reticent to speak the morning after Zolf had witnessed him wake from a bad dream. Zolf was intensely curious about whoever “Bosie” might be but knew well enough not to ask. Wilde would tell him or he wouldn’t. 

The morning after the end of their isolation period dawned as miserably rainy as the past seven. The light was dim and the breeze cold. This was unlikely to change so waiting for a better time to cross the channel was pointless. They packed their things. Barnes handed Wilde a loaded pack which Wilde hefted, eyebrow raised.

“It’s everything you requested.”

“I’m sure it is.” Wilde swung it onto his back. The combination of Wilde’s fine clothing and the pack was incongruous. At least he wasn’t wearing loafers though his boots were a soft thin leather that was barely more appropriate. 

They hiked out from the cottage across grassy dunes until they came to the shore. The waves poured in against the beach with a steady crashing roar, nothing that two experienced sailors couldn’t handle though. 

“I hope you aren’t prone to sea sickness, Wilde.” Barnes said.

“I’m sure Mr. Smith will be able to help out should any of us find ourselves indisposed in such a manner.”

Zolf looked down at the small boat, she was larger than the driftwood ordeal he’d crossed with last time but still had no cabin. The crossing would be cold and wet and choppy. “I don’t know that nausea counts as an element but I can at least protect us all from the cold and wet.” He touched Wilde’s arm and then Barnes’ to cast the protective charm over them. He didn’t cast it on himself, hoping that small penance might ward off Poseidon’s wrath.

Wilde climbed into the boat and Zolf and Barnes went about preparing to take her out into the surf. Barnes had timed their departure so that the tide was coming in. It meant waiting but slowly they got the boat far enough out that they could trim the sail. 

Zolf was surprised by how controlled the crossing remained. The weather was bad but nothing like the storm that had nearly drowned his whole mercenary party off Dover. Barnes was a more than able seaman, he’d clearly taken to it in a way that Zolf never had. He adjusted the sail as if it was an extension of himself. Initially, Zolf had started with the intention of helping but on a boat this size, Barnes was capable of the work of sailing all by himself. 

Wilde had started in the prow but after having been doused by waves a couple of times moved to midship. Zolf sat down next to him. “If Barnes is as good at sword work as he is sailing he’s an excellent addition.”

Wilde nodded and looked back over at Barnes who had the tiller under one hand and the boom pressed to port to turn them back across the wind. 

“Who are we meeting?”

“A contact. They have sensitive information.”

“What should we be expecting?”

“Another week, we have to be sure that we aren’t being fed false leads if our contact has been compromised. It should be like meeting Barnes. He has accommodations for us and at the end of the week we can move on. At least this time around the three of us can discuss our travel arrangements so long as my contact is kept out of it.”

“Your intention is to go undetected.”

“As much as is possible.”

“Who are we working for? The Harlequins?”

“They are more partners than our overseers. I’ll not lie to you. We are on our own now. I can call on resources, I can ask for personnel and aid, information, but it may not come. We have us…” Wilde drew a sharp little triangle indicating the three of them on the boat, “and that’s all the people in the world that I trust right now. Everything we do must be of the utmost secrecy.”

“And you’re not really even going to trust Barnes and me with information.”

“No.” Wilde looked away over the sea. “The enemy…”

“I get it. We’re the legwork, if anyone’s going to fall its us and then the enemy knows what we do. It’s not the wrong decision, just I hate not knowing.”

“I’m sorry.” And Wilde looked like he actually was regretful.

They arrived suddenly in the bay. “I guess as miserable as this is we should be grateful for the cover. Where do you want to come in?”

Oscar looked over the bow at the rain shrouded city, the safe house was inland but more East than West. “To the East, where ever seems quiet. I’d prefer to be overlooked.”

Barnes nodded and adjusted course to take them more East. Barnes fought the waves and wind into the harbor, Mr. Smith helped man an oar to aid in their progress. Eventually, the two of them looped mooring lines and tied up along a deserted looking pier. Oscar stood when he was satisfied that the boat was as stable as it was going to be. Barnes disembarked ahead of him and gave him a hand onto the pier. 

“I don’t know exactly where we are.” Barnes said.

“That’s fine, I know how to go.” Oscar said. He hadn’t been to Portsmouth in a long time, but knew enough of the main thoroughfares to be confident that he could guide them to the right address. He lifted his pack again, it was heavy but he suspected that Barnes had actually stowed a good portion of Oscar’s things in his own packs to keep Oscar’s a manageable weight. The safe-house was a long trek from where they had docked. Oscar knew his path was not the most efficient but he at least hadn’t gotten them lost. The address was part of a row of fine looking houses, most of which still looked as if they were cared for. Oscar paused before number eight’s front then went up the stairs and knocked. He stepped back down to the street to wait near his companions.

The door opened and a shorter man, well dressed, and grey-haired stepped forward from the hall. “Oscar, is that you?”

“Yes, Robbie.” Oscar answered, his dread at finding Robbie dead or worse lifting.

Robbie started to bound down the steps hands raised in delight and greeting, then he hesitated. “Oh Oscar, my goodness, your poor face!” 

The three travelers stepped back as he approached. “Wait,” Oscar held up a hand, “we can greet each other inside, there are precautions we need to take.”

“Yes, right, of course, come in.” Robbie returned to the house and allowed them to enter. Oscar led the party into the sitting room and drew the curtains across the window. 

“Robbie it’s good to see you. This is Commander James Barnes and Mr. Zolf Smith.” Oscar indicated each in turn then gestured to Robbie. “And this is Robert Ross.” He cleared his throat knowing that the next bit would be difficult. “Now, I know that what I’d told you in my last letter was that blue veins on hands and faces are the sign of the enemy. I know more now which is why we will have to do this. The blue veins don’t appear all over instantly, they can grow from a hidden point, so seeing your face and hands isn’t enough.” Oscar emphasized the last few words to make sure Robbie caught his meaning.

“Oscar,” Robbie looked between the three of them, scandalized. “You can’t be suggesting… in front of strangers no less.”

“It needn’t be in front of them, just me. Honestly you should be insisting on the same.”

“Have them go out then.” Robbie said, his hand flicking towards the door.

“They’ll turn their backs. That’s as far as I’ll allow.” Oscar watched Robbie frown.

“Oscar, you’re being unreasonable…”

“Unreasonable would be having you do it in the street where we could still flee easily. Commander Barnes, Mr. Smith, if you’d face away.” The two did as asked.

“Fine, I can’t believe you’re asking this of an old friend. Don’t you trust that I’ve been keeping safe here.” Robbie had kicked off his slippers and started on the buttons of his cuffs.

“I trust that you’ve done all that you can, I simply don’t trust that that’s enough.” 

Robbie sighed and continued to disrobe. Oscar waited patiently. When Robbie had striped completely Oscar glanced him over as Robbie turned and then nodded. “I’m sorry, we have to be sure.”

“It’s intolerable.” Robbie quickly pulled his clothes back on, then fussing over his buttons said. “Now you have to tell me how you got that scar.”

“Later, I think it’s time for dinner. Mr. Smith, would you mind terribly seeing to that?” Mr. Smith glanced over his shoulder and met Oscar’s eyes then nodded and went out of the room. “Barnes, if you’d secure the house?” Barnes also left. 

Robbie, hands shaking slightly, went to his drinks cart and poured an amber liquid into two cups and handed Oscar one. “To your health. Its so good to see you.” They both sipped.

“Robbie, I’m really very sorry for all of that.” 

Robbie stepped closer and put a hand up to Oscar’s face, tracing the scar down his cheek. “I can see you’ve been made cautious. What happened?”

Oscar turned his face away and sipped again from his glass. Robbie lifted his hand and brushed his fingers through the hair over Oscar’s ear. It felt so different now that it was short. “It was Bosie. I wasn’t careful, I’d missed him so much. He’d turned and I didn’t check properly. And he caught me unaware.” Oscar could still imagine Bosie’s lips on his, his fingers at his jaw, in his hair. 

“Oscar, I’m so sorry.” Robbie took up his hand and led him to the sofa and pulled him down to sit. “Where was this? How long ago?”

“Paris, two weeks.”

“Oh, I’d thought months, its healed so much.”

“That’s Mr. Smith’s work.”

“Is Bosie still out there?” Robbie stroked the back of his hand but Oscar felt so far away.

“No, I killed him.” 

Zolf sucked in a breath. He’d heard Wilde and Ross talking and stopped rather than interrupt them to fetch something from his pack. And now, because he hadn’t retreated from the hallway, like he should have, he’d heard everything. He should just go back to the kitchen and make the sandwiches he’d originally planned on. But then he heard sobbing and he peeked around the doorframe. Wilde had turned his face into Ross’ shoulder and was sobbing. Ross was still holding a glass but was rubbing Wilde’s back comfortingly. Zolf’s heart felt suddenly heavy. He’d known Wilde was hurting but hadn’t reached out to him. And now… Zolf recognized the pang of jealousy for what it was and quashed it. Ross was clearly an old and close friend. It was right that Wilde had shared his pain with Ross and not Zolf, especially considering that Zolf and Wilde hadn’t started out as friends and even now were barely better than associates. It didn’t stop Zolf from wanting to... to what, trade places with Ross? 'Don't be ridiculous.' Zolf turned back down the corridor. He’d have to make sandwiches after all, he certainly wasn’t going to disturb them for access to his pack.

Barnes let himself into the kitchen from the back court a few minutes later. “House is secure, I’m going to go tell Wilde.”

“Don’t, he and Ross are having a private conversation.”

“Oh, right. Seems too trusting.”

“He was clean. He’s an old friend.” Zolf said though he silently agreed.

“Right,” muttered Barnes looking towards the front of the house. “I think we should set a watch at night.”

Zolf nodded, “Do you have a preference?”

Barnes shrugged, “I like being last watch.”

“Right, I’ll take first then.” Barnes nodded, took a sandwich and left the room. Zolf put the water kettle on the stove. He wanted a drink, but tea was going to have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a bit, and I've been busy. I want to thank every one of you who has read this far or left Kudos. It's really appreciated. Thank you.


	7. Robbie Ross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf, Barnes and Wilde settle into another week cooling their heels in quarantine, this time on Robbie's hospitality.

Zolf left the remaining sandwiches on a platter in the kitchen after eating his own and took a turn about the house. It was growing dark outside and rain sheet-ed down the windows turning everything beyond the glass into blurred streaks of grey and amber light. He skipped over the sitting room where Wilde and Ross sat talking now, but strolled through a dark dining room filled with a large table and matching chairs. He then climbed the stairs. The first floor held several bedrooms, one elaborately furnished and clearly occupied by Ross. There were two other rooms and Zolf found Barnes unpacking in one of them. It was furnished as a reading room rather than a bedroom, but there was room enough to lay out bedrolls as they had done in the cottage. 

“The second floor is more rooms,” Barnes said when he saw Zolf, “but I think it wise if we all stay on the same floor, we’re more likely to hear any disturbance that way. I don’t know what your thoughts are on room assignments, would you and Wilde prefer to share?”

“Why would we?”

Barnes shrugged. “Just thought you might like to. No matter, you and I probably aren’t ever going to sleep at the same time so there’s no reason we both can’t lay out in here if Wilde wants his own.” 

“Right, six on six off then?” Zolf asked. 

Barnes nodded curtly, “watch starts at,” he looked at his pocketwatch, “eight.”

“I’ll wake you at two if you haven’t gotten up.” Zolf got another nod in response and he left the room. He climbed the stairs and found another two attic bedrooms and storage space. There wasn’t much to see though and Barnes had checked the security earlier so he descended to the ground floor. The platter of sandwiches had disappeared from the kitchen. Perhaps it was safe enough now to retrieve his pack from the sitting room without causing a disruption. 

When Zolf entered the room, Wilde and Ross were sitting rather farther apart than earlier and both held crystal glasses, the remaining sandwiches sat between them on the table. Wilde looked as though he had washed his face recently. The two of them nodded at Zolf and he pointed awkwardly at his pack and then hefting it said “I’m just…” and turned and left. 

He went back to the kitchen and pulled out a book to read, positioning his chair so that he could see down the hall to the landing at the bottom of the stairs and could hear the sound of the other’s voices. 

A few hours later Ross left the room and went up the stairs. Zolf waited for a little while and then got up and went to the sitting room to usher Wilde to bed as he was unlikely to take himself. 

He found Wilde sitting behind the small writing desk with a lamp.

“Did Ross retire?” Zolf asked by way of announcing his presence.

“Yes, he grew tired of the fact that I wouldn’t share any news with him. Understandable, he used to be the biggest gossip in London. He always knew who was who and could make any introduction you needed. And knew all the best secrets besides. I’m sure its hard to not have that anymore, especially if he’s been as isolated as he claims.”

“I’m sure,” answered Zolf, though he wasn’t. He wanted to ask about what he had heard earlier, but didn’t know how to admit that he had been witness to Wilde’s breaking. “You and Ross seem close for him merely being an informant…” 

Wilde set down the page he was reading and looked up at Zolf. Zolf tried to keep his expression incurious but was pretty sure he failed. “He was the one that brought me into the Meritocratic Service. He made all the introductions I needed and helped me curate the sources that served me before this all fell apart. I trust that his information is good and that fact is the only reason we have risked coming here. That is what you were asking wasn’t it? Why we would come to him.”

“It’s not because he’s your friend and you wanted to see him.” Wilde looked at him flatly. Zolf couldn’t decide if that was denial or dismissal. “It’s not because he is someone who knows who Bosie is.”

Wilde’s flat stare went cold, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I heard you say his name, back in Cherbourg. After that nightmare.”

“Nightmares don’t mean anything.”

Zolf frowned. He wasn’t sure if he should push harder but he’d already started. “You told Ross that you’d killed him.” Wilde finally looked away, pained, his hand came up to the scar on his face and then realizing what he had done dropped his hand again. “Who was he?”

Wilde looked back again and held Zolf’s gaze for what felt like minutes. “Someone I loved. And because I loved him I made mistakes and it cost him his life.”

“I’m sorry.” Zolf didn’t know what more to say and instead looked down at his hands in his lap. He was still holding the Campbell novel he’d been reading in the kitchen. He looked back up. “I know we aren’t close now, not friends, but I want to tell you that it’s okay to tell me… things… I mean, I know… I know I started out last year as antagonistic towards you… but we’re working together and… I’m not saying this well… I’ll listen, just I’ll listen if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, to be fair, I probably deserved it, the antagonism.” Wilde gave one of the first smiles Zolf had seen, grim and made crooked by the new scar, but it was there. Then he pointedly picked up the paper he had been reading before. 

“You should really call me Zolf. We’ve been living together for two weeks now and there’s no real reason to stand on ceremony.”

“Not yet, Mr. Smith.” Wilde didn’t even look up from reading.

“Fine, it’s late, go to bed.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m on watch.” Wilde nodded and went upstairs. 

Oscar found the next few days an uneasy balance of confidence in Robbie with his continued lack of blue markings and growing disquiet. He thought he hid it well from Robbie but as each day progressed towards evening Oscar grew more and more tense in Robbie’s presence, which was then capped with inspection and relief as each day he found no mark of infection in his friend. Robbie continued to fuss and stutter over it, and Oscar relented and allowed him the dignity of carrying the inspection out in Robbie’s quarters. Oscar knew that Mr. Smith or Barnes made sure to be nearby. One or the other of them was a nearly constant companion. Barnes even sat awake, though quiet and still through the morning watch, just outside the rooms on the first floor. Oscar had seen him once when he woke early from fitful sleep on the morning of the fourth day.

As evening approached, Robbie poured his usual glass of before-dinner-sherry and offered to pour Oscar one as well. Oscar refused it feeling once more an ill-tension in his stomach in dread of finding Robbie infected. The clock finally chimed the half hour that Oscar had chosen for their daily inspection. He got up, carrying his cane with him. “It’s time, Robbie.” For once Robbie didn’t protest and instead silently led the march up the stairs. Oscar closed the door behind them. Robbie started in on his buttons and Oscar allowed his eyes to drop to allow his friend a little privacy. Ross undressed and Oscar examined his skin for blue veins then finding none nodded and averted his eyes again. 

There was a flash of movement and suddenly pain erupted in Oscar’s shoulder. His hand flew to the spot and found a thin small knife buried there, blood was already beginning to blossom into the fabric of his shirt. Robbie pelted into him mere moments after and the wound became sudden agony as they fell to the floor together. Robbie was on top of him, hands clawing at Oscar’s throat. Oscar gave a gasping cry of ‘help,’ but with the wind knocked from him it was barely more than a whisper. 

Robbie got a hand over his mouth. “No spells,” he growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear... 
> 
> I promise I won't leave you hanging for long.


	8. Thank you, Zolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for a couple days but didn't have time to edit it, thanks for your patience on that cliffhanger.

There was a loud thump from the first floor. Zolf glanced up trying to figure out what had caused it and then, as he realized, he was filled with a cold dread: Wilde. He rushed into the hall and looked into the sitting room which was empty. Barnes appeared from the dining room. “You heard that.”

“Yes.” Zolf rushed for the stairs and heard a muffled cry and another crash, this one louder still. He hurried up the steps as fast as he could. Barnes pushed past him, his longer legs making it easy to overtake Zolf. They still arrived on the landing nearly simultaneously and Zolf carried onward, barreling into Ross’s bedroom door. It crashed open. 

Wilde sat on the floor, the desk and chair overturned. He was splattered with blood and seemed to be bleeding as well. Ross lay before him, motionless, blood pooling under him.

“Wilde.” Zolf said approaching him cautiously. Wilde didn’t move. Zolf knelt in front of him. “Wilde are you okay? What happened?”

Wilde’s eyes didn’t focus on him, remaining on Ross instead. Zolf moved to block him from sight. “Wilde…” Zolf reached out and touched Wilde’s shoulders and only then did he finally stir and look Zolf in the eye.

“He was clean, not a mark on him but he still attacked me. We’re… we’re all at risk of infection. We need to move.”

“Let me heal you.” Zolf said pushing Wilde’s sleeve away to get to the cuff so he could undo it. Wilde yanked his hand away wincing as he did so. 

“No, get everything from the desk, any paper, Barnes look for a safe, I think he had one but I don’t know where. We have to find whatever he was going to tell us.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Do it. I can wait.”

Zolf sighed and stood. He righted the desk and started searching through it. One of the drawers was locked. And the others held papers which he removed and started piling on the surface.

“Here,” Wilde was untying a pouch from his belt. “Its my bag of holding, just shove anything that looks likely in there.” Zolf did as asked and then decided he’d have to break the drawer to get into it. He didn’t have time to be subtle the way Sasha could. He’d have to make do and hope it wasn’t set with some sort of trap. He found the letter opener and jammed into the crevice around the molded edge. With a jerk on the handle the drawer popped open. There was a small book and several small pouches that clinked when he picked them up. He stuffed it all in Wilde’s bag. Barnes was searching the room for a safe but seemed to be having no luck. 

“Now will you let me heal you,” asked Zolf, kneeling beside Wilde again. 

Wilde nodded and held out his hands. Zolf unlocked the cuffs and pulled them from his wrists. Wilde gasped, hands going to his temples as he crumpled forward. Surprised Zolf rocked back on his heels and then hurriedly laid his hands on Wilde. He channeled healing energy into Wilde and felt the bleeding knife wound in his shoulder close. But there was something else, something active that was draining him, consuming the energy almost as fast as Zolf poured it in. “What…”

“Put the cuffs back.” Wilde’s voice was tight, “they know where I am.”

Zolf fumbled with the cuffs but with Wilde’s help was able to close the pair back around his wrists. Wilde sighed once they were replaced. 

“Explain what just happened,” Zolf demanded, worried.

Wilde was still holding his head as though he had a terrible headache. His voice was a breathy whisper when he did speak. “The people that were attacking me from afar with malicious spells, the reason I’m wearing these,” he gestured to the cuffs, “They must know exactly where I am, the magic was too strong for uncertainty. They also must be close. Within the city. We have to run and we have to do it now. Abandon anything you can’t grab as we go down the stairs. Barnes…”

“Yes,”

“What’s the exit strategy?”

“There’s a back alley, I don’t know where it would turn us out onto the street.”

“I think a boat. We need to leave the country and get lost.”

“Right.” Barnes left the room. Zolf stood and helped Wilde to his feet. Wilde stumbled away from him and was sick in the corner. 

He turned and slumped against the wall, hand over his eyes. 

“Wilde, can you even walk?”

Wilde was breathing heavily. “I don’t know, I’m dizzy. My head is pounding and you can’t heal me until we are far enough away that their spell becomes ineffective again.”

Zolf walked to him and held out his hand. “Take my hand.” Wilde lowered his own into it and allowed Zolf to guide him from the room. Zolf helped him into a chair in the room Wilde had taken for the week. “Wait here, I’ll pack your things and then we’ll go. Rest for now.”

Oscar could hear Zolf going about around him but did not watch. His head was pounding and light and moving only made it worse. It was unclear whether the spell had changed to be more acutely harmful or whether this was just the effect when it was close and precise in its target. He heard Zolf pass by again but kept his hand over his eyes to try to recover a little. He felt feverish and ill. It was not long before Zolf came and touched his shoulder. Oscar looked up. Zolf was laden with his own pack and Oscar’s. He reached out and took Oscar’s hand and led him downstairs. Oscar needed the assistance; his head pulsed with every step and he had to swallow several times to keep from being sick. They stopped in the kitchen and Zolf left him again. Barnes came in through the back door, his shoulders damp with rain. 

“I scouted a way, it puts us by the river. We can steal the first boat we come across that looks sea-worthy.”

“Good.” 

Zolf returned to the kitchen and picked up his pack, slinging it onto his back. Oscar reached for his own. “I got it.” Zolf picked it up too. “Barnes, lead the way.” Zolf caught at Oscar’s hand. The darkness and cool rain was a relief to Oscar’s headache as they stepped out into the night. They didn’t run down the alley but their pace was quick. Oscar found it difficult to keep his feet as he fought the lingering effects of the spell. Zolf’s hand remained an anchor, steady and strong. He clung to it, allowing it to guide him, hoping that it wouldn’t turn on him.

At some point they came to a stop at a crossing of back alleys. Barnes had held up a hand. “Something’s changed.” 

Zolf pressed Oscar’s cane-sword into his hand. He then pushed Oscar into the shadow, “wait here, it will just be a moment.” Zolf and Barnes left his sight. It was terrible waiting in the dark, fearing and helpless. Time was slipping again like it had in Damascus, this time the extremity of the distortion made him aware of it. Even so he found it impossible to track. And then Zolf was back and they were off again.   
This parting and return happened a few more times before they came out of the alleys and onto a main street. It ran along the river and they could follow it out to the bay.

Oscar pressed his hand to his mouth again and then swallowed fighting down another wave of nausea, “I think I can carry my pack now,” He still felt ill but at least his shaking weakness had subsided. “We’ll stand out less if we try not to look like we are fleeing.”

Zolf unslung Oscar’s pack, it was lighter than he remembered, clearly they’d had to abandon quite a lot of gear in their rush. “How are you?”

“I can run if we have to.” Oscar wasn’t actually sure if that was true.

It was a little while longer before they made it to a wharf. It was not the same area where they had tied the boat they’d crossed in just a few days ago. They walked along until Barnes said “That one,” he pointed farther along at a boat that was at least twice as long as the other though still single masted. 

“Yes, I think that will serve,” Zolf agreed.

They boarded and almost the instant Oscar could feel the sway of the deck he bent over to be sick again. A bucket appeared before him. “Come on, let’s get you below. It won’t help with seasickness but you can lie down and I won’t have to worry about you going over the side. It looks like it might be bad farther out.” He helped Oscar down the ladder to what looked to be the only cabin. Zolf passed him a flask and set the bucket near the only bunk. “I’ll be back down when I can to check on you.” Oscar sat down on the bunk and watched Zolf climb back up the ladder.

“Thank you, Zolf.”


	9. The Calm after the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first morning at sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg that newest episode!  
> 1) thank you Ben for my rights! ugh the way Zolf defended Wilde to Earhart! I had to sit down.  
> 2) do you know how freaking close I was to naming Barnes ‘James’ It was my first choice until I came up with Jonathon!

The storm did grow worse as they struggled to leave the bay. They only knew they had passed the Isle of Wight by the distant lighthouse torch that warned them off the rocks. It wasn’t until late the next morning when the cloud cover broke and the sea calmed. 

“Barnes? I’m going below.” Zolf said. 

“Wilde has coffee, yeah? Can you see about maybe making some?”

“Aye.” Zolf descended the ladder into the cabin. He’d not taken note of its accommodations the night before but found that there was indeed a stove. He looked to Wilde who was curled with his face to the hull. “Wilde, are you awake?” Zolf said quietly.

“Yes,” Wilde rolled over. He looked pale and exhausted. 

“We’re well out to sea, it’s near midday. Do you think that’s far enough to risk taking your cuffs off?” 

Wilde propped himself up on an elbow and had the look of someone trying not to be sick. After a moment he said, “Yes, I think so. It will be better at least.” He swung his legs off the bunk and sat up. Zolf saw again that brief fight for self control before Wilde lost it and bent double. He wasn’t sick but only because he’d probably already lost the entire contents of his stomach. When he’d recovered, Wilde swiftly slipped the cuffs from his wrists and held out a hand. Zolf grasped it and poured healing magic into him. 

Instantly Wilde was sitting up straighter and had a better flush of color in his face, the exhaustion in his eyes faded too. 

He sighed deeply, “That is so much better, thank you.”

“Certainly, I’m sorry it couldn’t be done sooner.”

“It’s fine. Are we clear of the storm?”

“Mostly yes,” Zolf said, kneeling to start searching for the coffee and Wilde’s strange machine to brew it. He found them and pulled them out. "Er… can you show me how to make coffee with this? Barnes was hopeful for some, its been a long night.” Wilde stood, needing to stoop slightly in the low-ceiling-ed cabin, and plucked the percolator from Zolf’s hands.

“I can take care of this if you’re needed up on deck.” Zolf took that as a dismissal and left.

Oscar carried two cups of coffee up on deck with him a quarter of an hour later. Barnes was at the helm and Zolf was in the bow coiling a line. Oscar handed the second cup to Barnes and then sat down on the bench nearby. “Where to?” Barnes asked.

Oscar sipped from his cup and looked out over the prow at the featureless expanse of waves, then aft at the grey smudge that had been last night’s storm. “As far as we can with whatever supply we have.” 

“I’m not sure we have much more than a few day’s worth.” 

“Our aim is for Cairo. I would think swiftest would be sailing around Iberia and through the Mediterranean, but I understand that many ports are beset by unusual and severe storms. If we are to go over land? Then I might suggest sailing to Porto and then traveling South through Gibraltar and then caravaning across the North of Africa. A longer journey though with less risk of shipwreck.”

Barnes nodded. “I’d say we make the journey by boat, the sea is supposed to be calmer farther out from port according to others I’ve talked to, and that’s been my experience as well. We can make Porto in a few days, at least if I can see the stars and make our position.”

“Then Porto first to resupply and then on towards Cairo.”

“Wilde, if Ross was infected how likely is it that we are?”

“He was infected. I thought the blue veins was the first sign… but clearly not. I don’t know how likely it is to have spread to us. Are people only infectious later, can it be passed at all stages of infection. Are infected people even the agent of its spread? We don’t know. I think it best to act cautiously as though any one of us is.”

Barnes frowned and sipped his coffee. 

Oscar didn’t want to dwell on the idea so he got up and left. He returned below to the pot of steeping tea he had made and poured a cup of it. This he carried to Zolf who was sitting fore of the mast and knotting some rope. 

Wilde handed the cup down to him. “There was no milk.”

“That’s fine, thank you.” Oscar shrugged and then sat down. “Do you think it likely that Ross infected one or all of us?” Zolf asked after taking a sip of tea.

“I currently don’t want to think or talk about it.”

“Alright,” Zolf said. “Is there something you do want to talk about?”

“No, I’m fine.” Oscar thought about standing up and leaving again, but didn’t think that he would be able to read or sleep easily. Zolf downed his cup of tea and set it aside before going back to the rope. He threaded the end around and around in a complex pattern. “What are you making?” Oscar asked.

“Nothing really, just something to distract me, keep my hands busy.” Zolf was quiet for a time while he worked on the rope. When he finished he had a little woven mat. He admired it for a moment and then started to pull it apart. 

They sat in silence for awhile and then Zolf set the rope aside and stood up. “I’m going to relieve Barnes, he’ll need to sleep.”

“Yes, of course.” Oscar nodded.

Zolf stomped off towards the helm. Oscar picked up the rope and twisted it idly while watching the waves. There was a gnawing fear settling into his chest. If any of them were likely to be infected it was him. He’d spent the most time with Robbie, talked with him, touched him, cried into his chest, and then been stabbed by him. But that had been true of Bosie too, in more ways than one. And Oscar was still here. Could he be lucky enough to escape twice? He rubbed at the two cuffs. Robbie wouldn’t be dead if Oscar had been able to cast magic still. Bosie wouldn’t be dead. They’d just be infected, which, with no cure, was worse. Oscar pulled his knees up, folded his arms, lowered his head onto them and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this chapter thinking I was going to allow Zolf and Oscar to have a relatively okay time. Oops. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read this far and your kudos and comments.  
> Thanks especially to theBardWhoBleedsHope for their comments which fueled this chapter and the next.


	10. Porto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in Porto and make arrangements to journey onward.

The journey to Porto took them a week. It remained clear all the way into port and the time allowed them the certainty that none of them had been infected. 

“Wilde,” Barnes caught Oscar as he came down the ladder into the cabin for his turn in the single bunk. They had held to a rotation of leisure and duty hours that always had two of them sailing and seeing to their other needs while the third slept. It had allowed them to make swift headway but had also pushed them to the edge of exhaustion, Oscar especially, since he was unaccustomed to the work. “I think we should consider hiring crew and a larger vessel to go to Alexandria. I don’t think we can keep this schedule up for the month it will take.”

“I agree.” Oscar steadied himself on the table. He’d fall asleep the instant he was allowed to lay down. “We can discuss it when we make port. I don’t mind taking a few days to make arrangements.”

Barnes nodded and then having just taken his eight hours rest bounded up the ladder to relieve Zolf of the helm. Oscar fell into the bunk and went immediately to sleep.

When they arrived in Porto, Wilde arranged for them to take rooms in the Grande Hotel. Having traveled with Hamid, Zolf wasn’t surprised by Wilde’s choice of accommodation nor could he really blame him for prioritizing his creature comforts. They took one of the suites that allowed them to share living areas while having the privacy of their own rooms. Something that Zolf could tell they were all grateful for after the shared bunk and cramped quarters of the ship.

Barnes took that first afternoon to investigate options in the various taverns that catered to seaman and traders. The next morning he reported that he had found a sea captain that would take them as passengers when he sailed but that he wasn’t leaving for three days. 

“That’s all well and good but what do we do if we discover that any of them are infected while out to sea?” Wilde leaned back in his chair, hands still idly turning over pages on his desk, his eyes scanning them briefly before moving on.

“Wilde, going with him is our safest choice. The three of us can’t expect to be able to handle a month long sea journey, it’s not feasible, even on a boat built for it. Not with the expectation that we would run into more storms. You said Cairo was having sandstorms every three or four days? You can’t expect for Alexandria to be any better off.”

“Zolf, what do you think?” Wilde turned to him.

Zolf hesitated a moment before speaking, “if we can, I think better to buy a suitable vessel and hire crew, one or two, with Barnes as Captain and me as first mate. It offers a little more control of the situation.”

“And if they are infected? You’re proposing putting us at risk, or in the position of killing said crew while at sea.”

“So quarantine them here.” Zolf said.

“Who do you think is going to put up with that. Ross barely did and he was aware of the reasoning behind it.” Wilde had stopped fiddling with his papers.

“For good money…? I’m sure you could find someone.” Barnes said. He sat, looking bored, with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.

Wilde sighed. “There isn’t anyone here I trust, there isn’t anyone I trust to know what we are about until we get to Cairo, and the longer we stay the more likely we are to be discovered, we don’t have time to find and quarantine someone.”

“Aren’t there Harlequins here we could reach out to?” asked Zolf.

“None I’ve met. I’m not interested in compromising our mission by trusting unknowns.” 

“Wilde, I think…” Zolf started.

Wilde cut across him. “That I’m being unreasonable? No one is free of risk. It is clear to me, as it should be to you, that this infection is insidious. Your friends will be your friends right up until they try to kill you and you won’t know when that change is coming. There isn’t room for us to hope the only thing that is reasonable right now is to be sure and that means not trusting anyone. Barnes was out of my sight for hours yesterday, I can’t actually be sure that in a handful of days he won’t turn on us.”

“Wilde, that’s so far outside the realm of…” Zolf protested.

“He’s right, I can’t know that the two of you weren’t infected while I was out, either.” Barnes said, eyes darting between Zolf and Wilde.

“And does this suspicion actually help!” Zolf nearly shouted in frustration. “It will paralyze us. We have to be able to take risks to do the things we need to do. And what we need to do is figure out how to get to Alexandria without risking shipwrecking ourselves or putting the risk of infection outside of whatever range is tolerable to you. But we are going to have to tolerate some risk in that area or we just won’t be able to move about in the world.”

“Now, I think he’s right,” said Barnes his interlaced hands now indicating Zolf. 

Wilde sighed again. “Is there a way to make sailing ourselves easier. What would we need?”

“If we stayed close to shore? It would take longer, six to eight weeks probably, but we could anchor at night. I’d want a vessel that’s storm worthy.”  
Barnes looked at Zolf who nodded.

“So we lose time.”

“If we have to find and quarantine crew, we’d already be losing that time.”

“Yes, fine, Barnes, go buy us a ship.” Wilde reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a small pouch which he tossed to Barnes. “If you need more than what is in there, there’s also a letter to the bank. I have discretionary funds we can use if necessary.”

Barnes bounced it on his palm and then got up and left.

Zolf watched him go and then turned to Wilde who was already sifting through his papers, pen in hand.

“Oscar.” Zolf said and waited for Wilde to look up. “I know that something is grieving you and I can’t imagine how painful your friends betrayal is, but I hope that you can trust that Barnes and I are going to remain as safe as we can. I think with what we know we can better protect ourselves. I hope you can trust that if something suspicious happens to us while we are away that we will tell you.”

“It’s not that my friends betrayed me. The infection took that choice away from them. It took away who my friends were. What grieves me," Every word seemed dragged from him, "is that I didn’t think I had a choice other than to kill them. Robbie told me there’s a cure for the blue veins which means they didn’t have to die, I could have gotten them back. But there’s no cure for death, so now they’re just gone.”

Zolf sat across the desk from Wilde feeling as though he had been drenched in ice water. “Was he sure?”

“I don’t know." Oscar looked down at his work and started shuffling it again, his hands trembled. "Either Robbie didn’t actually know, or it was stolen from him when he got infected, or its a lie they wrote to lure me back to England. Or we didn't search his house well enough. It’s not anywhere in the papers or notebook we took.”

Zolf reached across the desk and took Oscar’s shaking hand with both of his. Zolf’s fingertips just brushed the edge of the silver cuff under Oscar’s shirtsleeve. He squeezed gently in what he hoped was a comforting way. “I know it won’t bring them back, but we’re going to figure this out. We’re going to stop it.” He squeezed again but Oscar gently extracted his hand and returned to his studies. Zolf watched him for a moment and then got up and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks again for reading.  
> Best, PrinceofHellebore


	11. Startling Commander Starling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde gets to show off when the group has some unexpected guests.

It was their fourth and final morning in the hotel. A storm had rolled in but it wouldn’t discourage Barnes or Wilde from leaving on the tide. Their luggage had been sent on and Barnes was seeing to its stowing. Wilde had kept to his constant flow of paperwork. Zolf couldn’t understand how there kept being more of it but Wilde never seemed to be without. Even now he sat at his desk, turning pages, reading, taking notes, and flipping back and forth to compare passages. He had, with the available amenities, also put effort into his appearance. Other than the scar, which was less prominent under the application of cosmetics, he looked much like the Wilde Zolf had first met in London, if with slightly shorter hair. Zolf didn’t know why he had bothered with that either. Wilde hadn’t left the rooms since they had arrived and Zolf and Barnes had been on the boat with him for a week without more than a bucket to wash in. But he looked more content than he had been for ages, which had to count for something. 

There was little left to do in their rooms or the city except wait out the time until their departure. Zolf decided that instead of wearing a rut in the floorboards he’d sit and read the new Campbell that had just been published even if that meant he’d have less of it left for the sea journey. He could always read it again.

There came a knock at the door near the time they would depart. Barnes hadn’t returned yet but he was due soon. Zolf looked up at Wilde, who was frowning at the door. “Barnes wouldn’t knock…”

“Should I answer?” Zolf asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the hall.

“I think you’ll have to.” Wilde answered equally quiet.

Zolf put his Campbell book down on the low table and went to the door. He opened it a crack. There was a large man in a breastplate standing in the corridor. “Oscar Wilde?” he asked.

“No, Zolf Smith.” Zolf heard Wilde snicker behind him.

The man’s hand struck the door hard, snapping it out of Zolf’s grip. Zolf stumbled back a step in surprise and three armored men pushed past him into their rooms. They each had rust-red cloaks clinging to their shoulders and their plate was simply engraved, bearing the spear and shield of Mars.

Wilde had swept his papers into a box and snapped the lid shut before they had taken more than a step. He met Zolf’s confused gaze and then tapped the box significantly. Wilde moved out from behind the desk leaning heavily on his cane. “Gentlemen, to what do we owe the pleasure.”

“Oscar Wilde. Your meritocratic privileges have been revoked and you are under arrest for the murders of Lord Alfred Douglas, Robert Ross and five others.”

Wilde nodded. “I see. Well, I’m sure we can get this all cleared up in a moment if we were to just visit…”

The lead paladin swept forward and fitted a pair of handcuffs over Wilde’s wrists without saying anything more. He snatched the cane away and then pulled Wilde toward the door. Wilde stumbled slightly as he was jerked forward but as he passed Zolf, he winked. That itself froze Zolf to the spot. What was Wilde up to? Wilde had given no warning or indication of anything like this happening. Zolf shook himself and snatched his book from the table and the box from the desk. He stuffed both into his bag of holding and then dashed for the back stair grateful that their packs had already been sent on. The cult of Mars was likely to make a show of the arrest down in the lobby which would hopefully give Zolf enough time to catch up. 

Oscar proceeded quietly down the grand staircase with the three Mars paladins. He didn’t have anything to say to them and they remained silent. He knew that there would have to be Meritocratic Officers in the lobby. They’d be the ones bringing the charges, the Cult of Mars was merely reinforcement. He had suspected that his official duty would be terminated at some point and really this was as good a time as there could be. What he hadn’t been expecting was to be arrested for murder. Even that didn’t bother him so long as he could avoid the cell and keep on with his less official tasks. 

As they came down the final flight of stairs there was indeed a trio of Officers in the dark blue of the Meritocratic Force. One had an excessive amount of gold braid. Oscar remembered his two weeks spent in uniform before he proved his worth in more circumspect areas. He was grateful to not have had the misfortune to still be required to wear Meritocratic blue. 

The central and most decorated officer was a woman he recognized and despised. “Ah Commander Starling. How unexpected.”

“Oscar Wilde. I have to say, I’ve been looking forward to this day. I always suspected that your loyalty was doubtful and that eventually you would overreach your position. I assume they’ve given you the charges. Murder…” Her mouth curled around the word in relish, “That I hadn’t predicted.”

“As usual you’ve settled into simple answers instead of facing the complexity and discomfort of seeking the truth. I’ve never accused you of subtlety and shan’t start now. Who’s this show for? Has Guirves lost control? Have you?”

Her face grew stormy as he spoke. “The show is for my own pleasure.”

“I see. As usual you’ve made a spectacle to make up for your inadequate service. I know you’ve been yearning to bring me low but you don’t have the power to have my privileges revoked.”

“No, but killing a lord rather weakened the remaining support you had. Foolish move that. Especially the son of someone so well connected.”

“Queensberry.” Wilde sighed. “Even so, this isn’t the protocol.”

“You fled. I get to act as I see fit.” Her hand reached out and pulled the pocket square from his breast. “And what I see,” she leaned in close, untied his cravat, and dragged it from his collar, “is the opportunity to knock you down a peg.” 

Oscar grit his teeth, the pocket square and his cravat had both been imbued with magic, one for protection, one for charm. Being deprived of them was unfortunate. 

“An ill advised notion, Commander.” She placed both items in a bag held out to her by one of the other officers.

“I’m going to take away every magical item you have and then we’ll see how powerful you actually are.” She smiled. 

Oscar said nothing and tried not to give away the hint of eagerness he felt at her potential mistake. Commander Starling continued to pick items from his person. She took first his watch as it was ostentatiously magical. He had three time stops stored in it. Next came a feather from another pocket and then she made him step out of his shoes. Finally she took off the handcuffs and removed his cuff links then rolled his sleeves away up to his elbows.

“And these. Subtle, barely any aura at all. What do they do?”

“You can hardly think I’m going to divulge that to you,” Oscar countered, hoping she’d strip them off without another thought.

“Well, either way you aren’t keeping them.” She fumbled with the cuffs for a moment and then unable to find the latch, spat, “Remove them.”

“My pleasure.” Oscar said, trying not to oversell the sarcasm. He pinched the release points and slipped them from his wrists. “Commander Starling, its startling you’ve made it this far. In fact I’d say the contrast between us is stark. You’re starving to reach as I high as I have. But let me tell you a secret. Ambition alone won’t land you among the stars. You have to have talent too.” Without the manicles he had free use of his hands and he let them drop slightly before flinging them upward. The paladins grip, slack with inattention, broke. A bright and intricate pattern exploded like fireworks over their heads and remained shifting over them in a whorl of color and geometric shapes. Oscar twisted the rest of the way free, hand landing on the knob of his cane-sword so that he could unsheath it as he turned. The three paladins and the three meritocratic officers were all caught for that moment, off guard, as they processed what had happened. Oscar spun among them wielding his blade with deadly grace. 

Zolf stumbled into the lobby to find Oscar surrounded by six people: the three paladins and three officers of the Meritocratic Service one with the rank of commander. She stood close to Wilde with two of the paladins gripping his upper arms. She pulled items from his pockets as they exchanged comments Zolf couldn’t hear. Zolf wasn’t sure how or if he should get involved and decided that he would wait instead. Wilde seemed to have some plan, though being surrounded and outnumbered surely wasn’t part of it. The commander had Wilde remove his cuffs. Zolf almost broke in there except Wilde seemed to draw himself up ever so slightly in preparation. 

Then Wilde’s hands moved and there was a flash of light. Zolf felt his eyes drag upward but resisted to keep his focus on Wilde. Wilde spun out of the paladins grip and then suddenly had his sword in his hand. And he danced, lightfooted, among the stunned group. The two lower ranked officers were suddenly on the ground. The blade flashed, weaving in and out as Wilde continued to spin and dodge, its tip became ruby colored. The paladins were quickly coming to their senses, hands already dragging slowly towards their weapons. Zolf started moving towards the group to help. The commander was snarling and turning to Wilde who was now legging it towards the door. Zolf pulled his mace from his belt loop and took a passing swing at the Commander’s knee. She collapsed and Zolf continued after Wilde who had left through the hotel’s main door. 

Zolf saw Barnes appear from the right and give chase to Wilde. Zolf was just behind them, slightly slower. A crossbow bolt slammed into the door just above his head as he threw his weight against it to exit. Then Zolf was out. They ran for several blocks, before Wilde’s pace started to flag and Zolf was able to catch up. Barnes matched them for another block and then they came to a halt, panting.

“We need a cab.” Wilde looked around before hailing one. He gave the driver an address in Portuguese. Zolf looked around but didn’t see any of the officers or paladins. He hoped they really had lost them. The three of them piled into the cab and the driver set off. 

“What was that.” Zolf asked gesturing back towards the hotel.

“I’m sorry, could you be more specific.” Wilde said, he was still holding his blade, bare as he hadn’t been able to take the cane shaft from the paladin and in his other hand was a small blue bag.

“All of… all of it. What was that spell, when did you become a sword master? Just all of it.” Zolf said.

Wilde chuckled, “liked that did you? I told you there was a reason for all this.” He gestured at his face and suit, his hair was out of place and there was a flush of exertion in his cheeks. “People rarely give you credit for your talents when you look and act a certain way.”

“What was that spell?”

“Its a distraction spell, it causes extreme fascination in its victims. It works well on people accustomed to following orders. Using it against paladins was a risk as they usually aren’t taken in. The second was a hastening spell.

“And how long have you been practicing swordsmanship.” 

“Since I was six.”

“And you’ve hidden all that for years?” Barnes asked.

“It never does to reveal the full scope of your abilities. Least of all to your enemies.” Wilde rubbed his hand across his forehead.

“Are you hurt at all?” Zolf asked.

“No, my feet are a little raw, I wasn’t able to put my shoes back on before we had to run.” Zolf channeled a little magic and then checked to see if there was anything else wrong. But both Wilde and Barnes seemed hale. Wilde dug around in the bag he was holding until he pulled out his shoes which he donned. A smirk remained on Wilde’s face the whole carriage ride. It disappeared when they had to get out and Wilde stepped into a puddle. 

“This isn’t the docks,” Barnes said.

“No, I rather thought we wouldn’t want anyone to know where we were going.”

“Fair enough. Is it much of a walk?”

“We’ll beat the tide I think if I’m not mistaken.” Barnes was the only one with a trench coat and Wilde and Zolf were both soaked through by the time they reached the docks. Wilde was much less giddy by that point and disappeared below almost the instant he set foot aboard. Zolf remained on deck and helped Barnes unmoor the ship and set sail. 

Oscar descended the ladder into a passageway that had a couple of hatches. The first opened on a midsize cabin that had a bunk and desk. Upon checking the trunk’s contents he determined that this cabin was indeed his. He sat down on the bunk and emptied the bag he had taken from the officer onto the quilt. One by one his magic items tumbled out. All except his anti-magic cuffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you all for reading. I'm very excited that we might finally get canon lore for this time period in Zolf and Wilde's life. Even if we do that's not going to change my plans for this and I'll keep writing, fear not.  
> Thanks,  
> PrinceofHellebore


	12. Kiss and Make up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf catches Wilde out. Barnes makes a comment. Zolf and Wilde talk it out.

Oscar inverted the bag desperately, even though he could tell it was empty. He patted through the objects as if the cuffs could have hidden underneath his pocket square or cravat. However, they remained absent. He brushed a few wet strands of hair back from his face, fingers frantic and trembling. He closed his eyes, ‘I’m fine. Right now, I am fine.’ He took a steadying breath, and another. It didn’t start off deadly the first time, it had been a slow accumulation of damage. He could survive without. On the sea, far from his last known location he’d even be well hidden. It wasn’t a perfect protection, but it would shield him a little. He could make it the six weeks to Alexandria. 

Oscar stood from the bed and shivered in his wet clothes. He remembered that Zolf had been soaked too. He dried his clothes with a snap of his fingers, the old habit both a comfort and something else too. This time it came with a stomach lurching fear. For so much of his life his magic had been his shield and mask and pride and now the knowledge that it was available to him was a sign of his vulnerability. 

He picked up his oiled overcoat from the peg by the door and returned to the deck to give Zolf the chance to go below and put on dry things. He saw that Zolf had at least donned appropriate outer gear but likely over his already wet clothes. The city was still visible through the sheets of rain, though they were slipping quickly down the coast.

“Wilde! Get below! If you want to be useful, make up some tea!” Barnes yelled from the helm. The boat tipped over a wave and the sudden change of the angle of the deck had Oscar gripping the rail of the ladder with a white knuckled fist. He kept his feet and followed Barnes’ order. It was probably the most useful thing he could do at the moment.

Oscar stayed below in the galley for the first day and a half of travel as they fought their way out of the grip of the storm. He was still a liability on deck in rough conditions, so he set himself the task of keeping up a constant flow of tea and stew, and coffee when the hours grew long. Eventually the tossing of the ship lessened.

Wilde appeared on the deck during the evening of what Zolf supposed must be the second day. The winds had lessened and Barnes had brought them into the lee of an island to anchor. Both of them were desperate for some sleep. 

“We’ve made it out then?”

“Seems so,” said Barnes, eyeing the sky. It was a monotonous grey, but didn’t have the roiling clouds or darkness of a storm any longer.

“Good,” Wilde turned away towards the rail, head tilting back to look at the sky. His back was to Zolf. 

“Everything alright?” Zolf asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Wilde didn’t look around.

Zolf marched across the deck towards him. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m going below,” Barnes shouted. Zolf waved a hand in acknowledgment.

Wilde turned and watched Barnes go through the hatch. He still hadn’t looked at Zolf and that level of avoidance struck Zolf as suspicious. “What’s wrong?” Zolf asked.

“Nothing, you should get some sleep. I can keep a look out.” Wilde turned away again.

Zolf frowned. “No… what’s wrong?” He reached out and caught Wilde’s wrist. His hand closed over Wilde’s arm, and the bulk of his shirt’s French cuff, but the hard metal band was missing. Wilde pulled his arm away as soon as Zolf had closed his fingers around it. “You aren’t wearing the cuffs…”

Wilde finally made eye contact with Zolf. His expression gave away almost nothing of his feelings except there was a tightness about his eyes that betrayed him. Zolf hadn’t seen it before but he thought that Wilde was afraid. 

Zolf maintained the eye contact until Wilde dropped his gaze to the deck. “No, I lost them, in the fight. They weren’t in the bag with the rest of my items.”

Zolf hesitated, unsure. Wilde had said his life depended on the cuffs and their experience in Portsmouth demonstrated as much, but Porto had been different. He’d seen Wilde remove the cuffs and be without them for upwards of two hours and he’d seemed fine. If he’d lost the cuffs then, he’d have been without them for over a full day. “I thought you needed them.” Wilde spread his hands, eye brows rising. “Have you slept?”

“No.” He admitted. “But neither have you.”

“Yes, and I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”

Wilde shook his head minutely. “I can’t tell.”

Zolf laid his hand on Wilde’s arm, closed his eyes, and searched for injury. For a moment he thought he felt nothing but after concentrating he felt that same draining energy that he had felt in Portsmouth. It was barely there, a tiny leak, but it would drain away Wilde’s energy and health all the same. He channeled healing magic into Wilde. When he opened his eyes, Wilde looked actually tired. “Go sleep as much as you can.”

“You need it more. I’m used to not. I can keep watch.” Wilde said.

“No, you’re going to sleep while you can. Go. We’ll figure this out.”

Barnes returned after half a night’s rest. Zolf was grateful to finally make it to his own bunk and it was day when he woke again. He went to the galley and found there was already hot water available. He poured it into a tea pot, and scooped porridge into a bowl. When his tea was ready he took it on deck to see if they had left their anchorage. Indeed they seemed to be scudding down the coast. Wilde was making a line fast under Barnes’ watch. Zolf sat down and balanced his bowl on his knees. It seemed Wilde was receiving another lesson in the workings of the ship. Zolf watched and ate his meal as Wilde and Barnes worked together to change course. 

When Zolf had finished eating and cleaned up the galley he returned to the deck. Wilde was sitting close to the helm now and Barnes had his hands on the wheel but was half turned to face Wilde while they talked. Their conversation ended as Zolf approached, though it didn’t seem unnaturally quick in doing so.

Zolf went directly to Wilde, who extended his hand to him. Zolf took it and healed him again. Wilde already had that worn aspect that Zolf had seen the day before. 

“Did you sleep?” Zolf asked him.

Wilde glanced at Barnes, then said, “not for long.”

“We have to get another pair of cuffs.” Zolf said.

“They are rare. The pair I lost I had special made with the properties I needed. They aren’t a popular item. Some of the temples have inferior versions, workable but not as elegant.”

“We’ll make do.”

“What are you talking about?” Barnes asked.

“You haven’t told him!” Zolf exclaimed.

“No.” Wilde said flatly.

Zolf turned to Barnes and gestured vaguely at Wilde. “He’s got a curse and has to wear anti-magic cuffs to protect himself, and he lost the pair he had in Porto.”

Wilde gave him a disapproving look. “Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

“That’s not good.” Barnes said.

“What a profoundly inane understatement.” Wilde snapped, Barnes arched an eyebrow and stepped back to behind the wheel attention pointedly going back to the sea and sails.

“Wilde,” Zolf said sharply, “snapping at the people trying to help you probably isn’t productive either.”

Wilde got up and crossed the deck to the hatch and went below.

Zolf frowned, walked a few steps then looked at Barnes. “Do you need help up here?”

“Not at the moment… you can go kiss and make up.”

“That’s not…” Zolf said, flabbergasted. The conversation had wound up going incomprehensibly badly for something that should have been a straight-forward discussion. Zolf stomped over to the ladder and went below.

The hatch of Wilde’s cabin was just closing as he made it to the passage. He went to it then hesitated, realizing he didn’t have any idea what he was going to say. 

Oscar felt suddenly queasy. He stood and quit the deck without a word to Mr. Smith or Barnes. He retrieved a cup of water from the galley and then retired to his cabin. He heard Mr. Smith clomp down the ladder and the few feet to his door. Oscar sat down at his desk and pulled the bucket from its hook, feeling like he might be sick.

There came a knock which Oscar debated ignoring but eventually he relented. “Yes,” He raised his voice just enough to carry through the door. 

“It’s Zolf, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“May I come in?”

Oscar didn’t speak, he was getting a headache. “Yes,” he said finally.

Mr. Smith entered the room. Oscar gestured that he could sit on the bunk if he liked. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Not particularly.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d considered what to say, besides with Mr. Smith looking at him it was hard to deny. “It’s not as bad as when we were leaving Portsmouth, and half of it might actually just be seasickness but it’s the same thing again. I thought being out to sea would lessen the effects. I thought the distance and the constant movement would make the curse weaker.”

“They have an arcane link, I guess? The distance would help but movement won’t.” Zolf said, he didn’t sit down but instead leaned past Oscar and opened the porthole a crack. The sea air was a small relief.

“They must.” Oscar ran a hand through his hair. 

“It’s a few days to the nearest port: Lisbon. Do you think it likely we will be able to acquire what we need there?”

Oscar considered it. “Possibly, Gibraltar might be better. It’s only a little farther. I still have contacts in the city. I know the Harlequin in charge there as well, if they haven’t withdrawn.” 

“Do you think you can make it that long?”

“I should think so. This starts as an annoyance and builds. I don’t think it will kill me that quickly.”

Mr. Smith sat down on the bunk. “If they have your blood, they could.”

“If they had that I don’t know why they wouldn’t have done it already.” Oscar said, bitterly.

Mr. Smith didn’t speak for a moment, he just looked at Oscar with a worried expression, then asked, voice soft, “Why didn’t you want Barnes to know?”

“I think it fair to expect privacy around the matter of my condition.” Oscar’s words were clipped. He wished at least a little that they could just drop the subject but suspected Zolf wouldn’t allow it. “I’d not have told you either save for the circumstances that brought us together.”

“Do you trust us so little?” Mr. Smith crossed his legs and leaned against the wall, his focus didn’t leave Oscar’s face though.

Oscar set the bucket down avoiding Mr. Smith’s still concerned stare. It bought him a moment to think. “I do trust you. I trust Barnes too. But so far, ever since the events in Damascus, the people I thought I could trust have betrayed me and used the things they knew to endanger my life and mission.”

“You said it wasn’t their choice.”

“And that didn’t stop my secrets from being used against me.”

Mr. Smith looked at his hands. “I owe you an apology. I thought it better that we all knew what was happening, but it wasn’t my place to tell Barnes. I’m sorry and I promise to not cross that line in future even if I’m worried about you.”

“Thank you, Zolf. I know I haven’t been forthcoming and that is a strain on you as you warned me it would be. This is a... change for me… Being a part of the team is... new and I didn’t understand that my limitations would effect you so directly. I’ll try to incorporate that into my planning so as not to disrupt…”

“I’m not worried about how this effects me.” Zolf interrupted. “I’m worried about you. How long exactly were you planning on allowing me to assume everything was fine, that you had your cuffs and the curse was under control?” His voice grew stronger and angrier as he went on.

Oscar’s mouth opened to speak but he didn’t know the truth. It was true that he hadn’t planned on admitting it when Zolf had caught him out but he also wasn’t going to wait until he was as compromised as last time. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a plan to tell you. I knew we couldn’t do anything about it until we reached another port so probably then.”

“Except we are doing something about it. I can keep healing you and we can also sail without stopping until we reach Lisbon or Gibraltar. That’s a few days hard sailing but its nothing Barnes and I can’t handle.”

“Gibraltar, I know its farther but there are more resources there for us.”

“Fine, Gibraltar then.” Zolf scooted off the bed. “You know lots of sailors get seasick, neither of us is going to mind if you bring your bucket back up on deck.”

“I mind.” Oscar rejoined primly.

“Fine. Just if you want. Oh, also, I think Barnes thinks you and I have…” Zolf gestured, his hand waving vaguely back and forth in the air between them.

Oscar sighed. “Of course that’s the conclusion he would come to.”

“Ah why would he?”

“Let’s consider… at almost every turn you’ve been my first support, you’ve rarely left my company. This morning your first action was to come hold my hand, and check in on me. I know how you like your tea…”

“That doesn’t mean, we’re all always together. You’re sick, so of course, I, the only healer on board, am going to check on you. We all make teas and coffees for each other…” 

“Oh perhaps we’re a threesome then.” Oscar quipped.

“We’re just people, on a boat, trying to save the world!” Zolf said forcefully, clearly riled.

Oscar smirked, “You didn’t let me finish my list, the last and most telling factor is that when he made a pass this morning, I turned him down.”

“Oh, I see. Still!” Zolf exclaimed frustrated. “Why are people like this.” He put his hand on the latch to leave.

“Zolf, does it bother you that he thinks us involved?”

Zolf sighed and looked at Oscar. “No, what bothers me is that he’s come to any conclusion at all.” Zolf took his hand off the latch and turned back to Oscar again. “I really hate people making assumptions about the nature of my relationships.” 

“And what would you say is the nature of our relationship?”

“Friends… aren’t we?” Zolf looked up and met his gaze. “Did you want me to say something different?”

“No, I'm trying to not have any assumptions.”

“That’s more of a… rejection of outside perspectives looking in… I guess…” Zolf hesitated before continuing, “I’ve been teased a lot because my friendships always looked a little romantic and my romantic relationships never looked... well romantic enough.” His words slowed but then he continued more confidently, “But frankly nobody outside the relationship should even have an opinion.”

Oscar was quiet a moment then asked, “Do you want me to set the record straight with Barnes?”

“No… Actually, yes, but only if he makes another comment.” Zolf’s gaze dropped and he added a muttered, “Thanks.”

“As you like.” Oscar felt that that was as much as either of them needed to say for the time being and he pulled a sheaf of papers from a box and starting sorting them onto his desk. If he couldn't sleep, he could work.

“Do you want to be healed again before I go back up?” Zolf asked.

“Save it. We’ll have to figure out how to space them out.” Oscar glanced up, and saw Zolf's worried frown, but returned to his work just as quickly.

“Right, please don’t just bear it. You’re not draining my strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Oscar shuffled the papers a little trying to make it clear that he was onto the next thing and that Zolf should go. 

Zolf nodded and left the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. I felt compelled to get this out before tomorrow's episode, and fortunately I have an internet connection and no regard for my self imposed bed time.   
> As always would love to hear from you.   
> Thanks,  
> PrinceofHellebore


	13. Barnes' Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf, Wilde and Barnes arrive in Gibraltar in a precarious position. Unsure of their resources and allies they make a plan to secure a new antimagic device.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, thank you for your patience during the little hiatus. I got rather obsessed with a knitting project. But this also allowed me to relisten to the majority of RQG again, and man did I pick up some more details... so really its a good thing after all. (wish I'd taken some notes though....) anyway, Here's the new chapter. Enjoy.

Zolf knocked on Oscar’s cabin door, “Oscar, we’ve docked. Barnes is paying the harbor fees now. We need to make a plan.”

“Yes, alright.” Zolf heard Wilde’s answer muffled by the door. It was a few moments before the cabin door opened and Wilde stood framed in the doorway. He looked ill. Zolf had healed him mid morning, just a few hours prior, and that usually held until sunset. He wasn't holding up as well today.

“The progression is getting faster.” Zolf said and lifted a hand but Oscar shifted his weight back slightly.

“We knew it would, save it, if you go out tonight you may need the extra healing. We don’t know what the state of the city is.”

Zolf sighed but nodded. “Let’s go to the aft cabin, I’ve put water on for tea. Barnes should be back soon.” Wilde nodded and turned aft, proceeding down the passage. Zolf could see Wilde’s exhaustion, his balance in the gently rocking ship was impaired and he trailed a hand against the bulkhead as he went. Zolf knew that Wilde was probably only catching an hour or so of sleep at most immediately after each healing and had been surviving on that for a week. They had to find another pair of anti-magic shackles; he didn’t think Wilde would make it to another port and Zolf didn’t want to have to see him try.

Wilde sat down at the table and Zolf picked up the hissing kettle and poured water into their teapot. “I know we’ve been at sea, but did you pick up much information in Porto or earlier about what we might expect here?”

Wilde shrugged laconically. Zolf narrowed his eyes and frowned at him. “I’m not sure I can predict what’s going on anymore.” Wilde sighed. “I’m running out of sources and I’m not capable of the groundwork I once was.”

“Guesses then, or I don’t know, fears, what’s the worst thing that might happen here?” Zolf prompted. He brought the teapot, cups and sugar bowl to the table, they were out of milk again. Zolf poured and pushed Wilde’s cup towards him. Wilde reached out and spooned sugar into it. Then stirred it absently. He was staring at the porthole. 

“Wilde,” Zolf said when he failed to say anything for several minutes.

“Hmm. Yes, right… The Meritocracy has a strong presence here. More so than Porto. I think with our previous experience this means that we can’t depend on anything to do with them. Messages about my status as a fugitive will have reached here and this city falls under Guivres’ control. If we make it to Egypt, we might have better luck under Apophis. The Harlequins had a strong showing here, but that was years ago, and the M.O.s cracked down hard on them. I suspect that only drove them underground and with the recent upheaval… Well, this is a strategic place to hold if you can… They’ll be here, we just may not be able to find them.”

“We’re only here to get an anti-magic device, at this point I’m not sure it matters what it looks like…”

Wilde leaned back, cup in hand, he was slipping into that faraway look again. Zolf tapped the table. “I really was thinking that time… You’re right, if we are going to be on this ship for the next month there isn’t much reason we can’t turn my cabin into an anti-magic zone… Less convenient, but a workable solution certainly.”

“So you thought one of the cults would have what we needed.” Zolf said, knowing he'd have to keep the planning session on track since Wilde was apt to wander in his exhausted state.

“Yes, it’s less a question of who has it, and more a who will part with it. Like I said, it’s rare. Most magic can be stopped by preventing somatic or verbal components, you’re trying to stop the prisoners from doing magic, not magic being done on the prisoner.”

Zolf nodded. “I’d say going to Mars, Zeus, or Apollo is right out.”

“Yes, all too dangerous. I think Athena would be the best to approach first. And I don’t think I should go with you…”

“I’m not sure we should split up,” Zolf interrupted.

“Its less splitting up and more leaving me behind. We both know that right now I can’t keep up. Much better if you and Barnes went and left me here.” 

Wilde sipped from his cup, Zolf watched, keenly aware of the slight tremor in his hands. “And if you’re attacked here? I think it likely that if you can be cursed at a distance that you can also be tracked.”

“We’ve seen that they aren’t necessarily interested in capturing me. The meritocrats, or at least Guivres, do want that but they aren’t the ones with the link.”

“Of course you’d have two organizations after you.”

“You’ve forgotten that the Harlequins aren’t fans either.”

Zolf threw up his hands. “How is it that you’ve only managed to make enemies in your life.”

“Foes, its so much easier to manipulate people if you think of them as foes and allies rather than enemies and friends.”

Zolf shook his head, if Wilde wasn’t so obviously unwell Zolf would have created water over his head. “You’re unbelievable.” Wilde shrugged. “Well lucky for you, I think of you as a friend, despite everything, and I’m going to do what is necessary to keep you safe and well and I don’t think it's a good idea to leave you defenseless.” Wilde stared at Zolf for a long time then looked away. Zolf saw again his exhaustion but could read nothing else in his stare.

Barnes ducked into the cabin at that moment. “What’s the plan?”

“Wilde thinks its a good idea that the two of us should go to the temple of Athena and leave him here... alone.”

“The best option we have." Wilde protested. "Don’t mischaracterize my assumptions. I didn’t ever say it was a good or safe plan.”

Barnes sighed and poured some tea into his tankard. It drained the pot. Zolf stood and put the kettle back onto the stove. “Why did you pick Athena and not Hephaestus? I’d think them more likely to have what you need and as long as you bring them a gift they don’t really care who you are or what you want.”

“If you have a gift then yes, I think that a wise choice," Wilde nodded, "but I have nothing worthy I can part with and I've lost the ability to pull on the meritocrats discretionary funds.”

Barnes laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, frowning. He stood silently for a long moment before asking. “Do you really think that we can undo everything that’s happened?”

Zolf and Wilde both looked at him. Barnes’ gaze was on the table, as the silence stretched Barnes lifted his tankard and seemed to drain it. “James…” Zolf started.

Wilde spoke louder though, “No, I don’t think we can undo it. I hope we can stop it. I hope we can save what’s left, but I don’t think we can be so naive to think that we can have back what’s been lost.”

Barnes set the tankard down on the table with a loud thunk. “Right, well,” Barnes said, “Wish me luck then.” 

“Good luck, James.” Wilde said. Barnes sketched the slightest bow, hand going again to his sword hilt, and ducked out of the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. My particular gratitude to Oak_Leaf and theBardWhoBleedsHope for their comments on the last chapter. It's wonderfully encouraging and validating. Thank you.


	14. Take the long way Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Barnes on his mission to Hephaestus, Zolf and Oscar cool their heels on the ship.

Zolf spent the afternoon seeing to the chores that they had neglected during their passage. He’d healed Wilde shortly after Barnes’ departure and sent him to sleep if he could for as long as he could. The sun now hung low on the horizon, shining golden orange and magnified under a bank of dark clouds. 

“No sign yet?” Wilde was climbing the ladder from below, holding bowls in both hands.

“No, he’s not returned. Should it take this long?” Zolf asked abandoning his mop and accepting the bowl of stew from Wilde. They sat down on the bench near the helm. 

“I wouldn’t have thought so.” Wilde said, he was looking out over the harbor and stirred his stew absentmindedly. “Do you think the weather is going to turn again?” 

Zolf glanced at the sunset and frowned at the clouds. “I don’t know. We’ve faired better than I had feared based on the rumors and what I had seen to the North. These aren’t natural storms. It makes me think we are due one.”

Silence fell over them as they ate, the sun dropped below the sea. Zolf soaked up the last of his meal with some stale bread. “We’ll have to resupply tomorrow,” he said and Wilde nodded. “How long do we wait for Barnes?”

Wilde sighed, his haggard face looked softer in the twilight. “As long as it takes us to come up with a new plan… We can’t sail without him. I also don’t think we can leave here without a solution to…” Wilde gestured vaguely with his bowl, which was still half full, “my problem.”

“Resupplying shouldn’t be hard, we can do so easily in the morning, there’s a market square not far from here. And then we could go to Athena in the afternoon and try our luck there.”

Wilde stirred his spoon once around his bowl again before setting it aside and sighing. “You should go without me.”

“That’s absolute nonsense. If we’ve lost Barnes he could lead people back here…” Zolf hesitated, realizing the implications of his statement, “Should we find somewhere else to stay?”

Wilde looked considering, his hand lifting to his lips. “Tomorrow perhaps, I don’t think this absence is yet wholly suspicious.”

“We’re not splitting up. I’m not leaving you here defenseless. Less risky to go together tomorrow.”

“The funny thing is… if we get what we are after, I’ll actually be more defenseless then than now.” Zolf looked at Wilde blankly. “You forget that right now I’m capable of all my magics. What I am is vulnerable, not defenseless.”

“You find that a significant distinction.”

“When you’ve built your life on words you find that sometimes the smallest distinctions can give you the biggest advantage.” Wilde’s mouth twisted, his fingers were still at his lips. Zolf realized Wilde must be holding back from being sick. He reached out and put his hand on Wilde’s arm again. He didn’t heal him immediately as he had been doing but again gauged the damage. Wilde held unnaturally still as Zolf’s touch lingered. The drain on him seemed worse than it had been. Zolf channeled positive energy into Wilde. “Better?”

“A relief, yes.” 

“We’re going to solve this.” Zolf said.

Wilde glanced at him, his gaze seemed to measure and consider him. It wasn’t the scrutiny of examination. “I don’t see how we can, but I hope so, and deluded as it is, I sort of think its us that must if its to be done at all.”

Zolf’s skin prickled, “Well that’s a grandiose statement, even by your self important standard.”

Wilde laughed, brightly in a way that Zolf hadn’t heard him do for… ever. It subsided quickly but not into soberness, just quieted into the darkening night. Wilde shrugged, “this or nothing,” he picked his bowl back up and started eating again. 

They didn’t set a watch, Oscar was awake most of the night anyway and sat on the deck for the duration. Zolf found him at first light and healed him and sent him for what sleep he could find. Oscar went to his bunk and supposed he slept as when he returned to the deck the sun was risen fully. There were day old biscuits for breakfast and the last of the cured meats. 

Barnes hadn’t appeared in those few hours. 

“Should we leave a note?” Zolf asked.

“I left something in his cabin. We should get on. I don’t know that we will have any easier a time of it. And we could well have worse.”

“Oh, I miss last night’s egotistical optimism.”

“I very much intended it to be egotistical pessimism.” Oscar watched Zolf frown as he picked up his satchel and disembarked. He turned to offer Oscar his steadying hand. Oscar didn’t scorn it, but released it as soon as his feet were on the dock. They walked a pace to the market, silent, caught up in their own thoughts. Oscar followed as Zolf arranged for provisions for their presumed sea journey. Wilde watched the crowd around them carefully.  
It was perhaps an hour later when Oscar saw a figure, ragged, sitting with a beggar’s bowl, there were more people down on their luck recently than before, but this person didn’t fit. Their disguise allowed them to blend in well, but the tiny cairn of stones beside them marked them as a follower of Hermes… 

Oscar had fallen from Zolf’s side and turned to find him again. He did, and leaned down to whisper to him. “Stay silent and follow me.”

Oscar turned and walked to the Hermes’ cultist. His path wasn’t direct. He ended up standing incidentally beside them. “Fleet feet must rest sometime.”

“Rarely as of late.” The figure was an older woman with greying hair shorn close. She looked up at Oscar and knocked the miniature cairn over. Oscar turned his lapel out to reveal the pin hidden there.

“An old sign, you’ve been away a long time.”

“I’ve been telling tales.” 

The woman nodded and stood, she went unstooped but walked with a long staff. “Come with me, bring the flock.”  
Oscar motioned to Zolf to catch up.

They followed her from the market and down several streets.

“I didn’t think you were faithful…” Zolf started.

“You don’t need to be faithful to have patrons.”

“Nonetheless I would have guessed Dionysus.”

“Everyone does,” said Oscar.

They were led to a derelict building off an old empty square. It was cavernous and barren. Sunlight fell in rays from the higher windows. The woman leading them placed a stone on the pile near the door; Wilde did as well. Zolf having nothing so trivial hesitated. Wilde noticed and gestured with his hand, low, cutting across. Then he stepped slowly to the middle of the room where another figure stood. 

“We have messages for you.” The figure said, they were dressed in a traveling cloak and sandals, less ragged than the cultist they had followed from the market. 

Wilde held out his hand and received a fistful of tattered and folded pages. 

“I have news for you.” Wilde said. He snapped his fingers and an envelope appeared in his hand which he placed in the priest’s in turn. “And also a request,” he then continued in a lower voice that Zolf could not hear. The figure turned and left the center of the room. Zolf became aware then of the dozen or so people that had joined the periphery, they stood, watching. Their garments were practical, like Sasha’s had been, meant for stealthy movement and to help them be overlooked. Wilde’s clothes even toned down as they were still stood out in high contrast to the rest. The time dragged on. Wilde put a hand to his mouth briefly and then lowered it. Zolf recognized the gesture but knew better than to cast magic in a temple not his own. 

Zolf wasn’t sure how long they had stood there. Wilde hadn’t moved but he had shuffled uncomfortably on his metal legs several times. Finally the figure returned. “Word has been passed on, you’ll find what you seek at journey’s end.” Wilde nodded and turned to leave. “We all walk towards death.”

“Go the long way round.” Wilde said and back turned, waved over his shoulder.

Zolf followed him out. “Are they always like that?”

“Never encountered the Hermes lot before?”

“No, they tend to stay underground pretty much.”

“Patron of heralds, thieves, and travelers. Messenger of the Gods. They know more about what’s going on than anyone. Very useful connection if you can make it.”

“And they always do all that cryptic stuff.”

“Cryptic? No more so than any of the gods, less formal though, I think that’s the thieves influence, or the travelers.”

“The pass phrases is bards and heralds then.” Wilde shrugged non-committed-ly. 

“They have or will have what I need in Alexandria.”

“We can’t make it that far, at least not quickly enough.”

“We’ll have to. This still isn’t near as bad as the first time.”

Zolf grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Are you that used to exhaustion? It’ll kill you as sure as a knife can.” Wilde hadn’t shaken him off. Zolf remembered the gesture he’d made earlier while waiting and channeled healing energy into him again. “I can keep doing this but it isn’t meant for long term. I’m afraid for what it will do to you.”

“This is what we have to deal with, and we will face it as we are with what we have.” Wilde pulled away and started walking again. “We should go back to the boat and collect a few things. Consider a hotel maybe, if Barnes isn’t back.”

They made their way back to the dockyard, it was a fair walk as the Hermes temple was in a different quarter of the city and it was near twilight by the time Zolf and Oscar were shipside. Zolf stepped onto the boat first and then turned to offer his hand again to Oscar. The hand froze partially extended. Oscar looked up. A thin blade with the shine of good steel touched Zolf’s throat.

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill you,” said Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, would love to hear from you. Thanks to everyone who has commented in the past. 
> 
> -Prince of Hellebore


	15. A week off Gibraltar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high as Zolf, Barnes and Wilde live in fear of the other's imminent betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took longer than I'd have liked but... It's here and long so enjoy!

Zolf caught the glint of the blade as it came to his throat. He froze, hand half extended towards Wilde. He could only see a human sized shadow holding the hilt from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill you,” said Barnes. 

Zolf let out his caught breath with relief. “Barnes, it’s us,” Zolf’s eyes trailed towards Wilde, looking for some sort of cue on how to continue. 

Wilde turned towards Barnes and said, “James, I see you found what I left for you.”

The blade remained steady at Zolf’s throat. He could feel the tip of it tickling at the stray hairs of his beard. “Barnes, it’s us. What’s this about?”

“I was ambushed. Had to spend last night and most of today laying low. No idea what could have happened to the two of you in that time, especially since you were absent when I returned.”

“An impasse, you can no more trust us than us you.” Wilde shifted on his feet, hand lifting to stroke at the scar on his face. “I for one trust that Zolf is who he says, and I’d hope he’d offer me the same grace and that our whereabouts today make it unlikely that we’ve been infected. But that can’t be enough to reassure you, and under the circumstances shouldn’t. Currently all that needs to happen is we leave this port and head on, time is of the essence.”

“Do you have a suggestion on how to get on then?” Barnes hadn’t moved so much as a muscle. Zolf took a shallow breath. 

“Can you stand the possibility that we’d kill you as you slept?”

“Wilde!” Zolf exclaimed; the blade was still notably at his throat and Wilde just stood casually on the dock, his gaze leveled on Barnes, expression unconcerned by the possibility of Zolf having his throat cut.

Barnes sighed, “Can you accept the same?”

Wilde shrugged. “We’ll have to. The only way forward that I can see is to load our supplies and cast off. Staying can only prolong our suspicion and the risk.” Barnes nodded and retracted the blade. Wilde stepped up onto the deck of the boat and brushed past Zolf who hadn’t moved. “By the by did you manage to get what we hoped for?”

“A substitution. Some crystals to make a warding.”

“It will have to do. Zolf and I had some success and we will be able to get a replacement in Alexandria.” Wilde took the silk bag that Barnes held out and went below, leaving Barnes and Zolf alone.

Zolf turned to Barnes and looked him up and down. “Are you injured?” he asked, Barnes looked exhausted and disheveled but there were no visible wounds or rips in his clothing. Zolf stretched out a hand to give him a dose of healing anyway but Barnes backed away. 

“Nothing that won’t take care of itself. If you don’t mind doing the loading I’m going to wait at the stern.”

Zolf nodded and went about the work of loading their supplies. And then together, though keeping a wary distance, they cast off the lines, and slipped away from the dock.

It was a lonely and solitary few days. Barnes avoided being near Zolf and Wilde spent the entire time in his cabin. When Zolf hadn’t seen Wilde for almost two whole days he went to his cabin door and knocked. He received no answer and decided to open it anyway. Wilde was reclined in his bunk, papers strewn across every flat surface in the cabin. Wilde’s chest rose and fell gently, a strand of hair fluttered in front of his face. Zolf decided to leave him to sleep but as he turned he heard, “A moment, Zolf.”

Wilde rose and went to his desk, straightening his papers, a hand straying up to brush away the lock of hair that fell in front of his face. Zolf pulled the cabin door shut for a bit of privacy, even though he knew Barnes would remain on deck unless relieved. 

Wilde didn’t look at him, “How is Barnes?” 

“Reserved,” answered Zolf.

“And not in the way he is normally reserved?” Wilde asked.

Zolf shrugged, he hadn’t really thought so and elaborated, “We’re keeping away from each other.”

“Wise, keep a close eye. Changes in behavior are a warning sign… this may seem strange but if you can try to embarrass him. Embarrassment is one of the most genuine emotions, hard to fake.”

“You think he was infected?”

“He was away from us.” Wilde’s voice was hard and cold before softening as he went on. “He could be. I hope not, but…” Wilde shrugged with one shoulder, shuffling a few pages in the stack he was holding. He glanced up at Zolf briefly, “I’m going to hole up here… keep the door locked. If seven days pass and he hasn’t shown a sign well, we’ll know we’re safe then.”

“You can’t possibly stay in here for a week.”

“Oh, I’m not going to, not entirely, but you’re not going to see me. I’ll see to my needs but… well, the warding is working, but it’s size is limited and it isn’t movable. It doesn’t cover an area much larger than my bunk so I’m going to have to stay confined to my cabin.”

“Alright.” Zolf said. “I’ll leave you a plate at meals.”

Wilde nodded. “Lastly, Barnes will have to do inspections at the end.”

“Really, we’re in the middle of the sea.”

“So far every turned person has just attacked me, seemingly on sight, but I think that’s because I gave them the opportunity. I think they are clever enough to bide their time if they can. If it served their purpose they’d wait to carry out an assassination.”

“Gods, pompous ass… Assassination! You really think they’re after you specifically.”

“You don’t, after what you’ve seen? They know exactly who I am, they knew exactly who your team was and targeted their loved ones. It’s perfectly clear to me that I’ve merely been lucky so far. But there isn’t enough luck left to save us. I’m done being lucky.”

Zolf didn’t know what to say to him. Wilde sounded so full of bitterness that reassurance would surely just turn sour and meaningless. 

“Right, well…” Zolf left. He heard the bolt on the door slot into place as soon as the door was closed behind him.

Barnes was walking the length of the deck as Zolf came up from below, “Lover’s quarrel?”

“No,” Zolf snapped, “We’re not involved, you can have at him,” Zolf marched over to the rail where some of the lines were secured. He started angrily recoiling the ends.

Barnes’ mouth worked, “oh no, he… well… sorry, didn’t mean to offend, just I heard raised voices.”

“Yeah, well he was being his usual self.”

“Feeling better then, is he?”

Zolf paused, glanced at Barnes and for the first time took notice of the absent scabbard. “Yes, he must have been.” 

And then, the next morning, Barnes came to Zolf as he stood at the helm. “I apologize, for… I don’t know what… the suspicion… I think…”

“Barnes, it’s fine. We aren’t dealing with something that we understand or have experience with, it’s not…”

“Sure…” he paused, “I probably didn’t have to threaten to kill you, though.”

Zolf shrugged. “It’s fine, really.”

Barnes nodded curtly. “I think we need to find a different way of going about this…” he gestured vaguely to the space before them.

“Yes, without Wilde pulling even a fraction of his weight, its going to be a long passage.”

“No, I mean, yes it is, but I wasn’t talking about that.” Barnes gestured again, this time indicating himself, Zolf and then the general direction of Wilde’s cabin below. Zolf raised his eyebrows. “You were right, in Porto, the suspicion isn’t… the thing is… it is useful, isn’t it? But, we’re also going to have to work around it.”

Zolf frowned and to buy himself a moment to think he checked their heading again and adjusted the wheel, the boom swung ever so slightly farther to port. “I think that’s part of why Wilde wants to pick up Carter from the Harlequins. We can work in pairs then. And that doesn’t mean that the pairs won’t be suspicious of each other, but, if you have your buddy then, well, that’s a safety net. Like if you had had someone in Gibraltar to go with you, you’d at least know that they were with you the whole time and safe. Just like Wilde and I knew the other was safe.”

“Yeah, unless both of you get got, or one of you does.”

“Its not perfect, I don’t know that it can be.” 

Barnes frowned too and then stepped into the space behind the wheel and Zolf relinquished the space without protest. 

They skirted a storm on the fourth and fifth days. Zolf and Barnes took sleep as they could and tried to keep on course to the best of Barnes’ reckoning. 

As he had warned, Wilde was as a ghost for seven days. Even the storm or its abatement didn’t rouse him from confinement. Then when the full seven days had passed Wilde came up to the deck while Zolf and Barnes were both seeing to lines and re-securing their supplies on the deck. 

“You should probably go below again shortly, Wilde, there’s a squall like to catch us before long.”

Wilde turned briefly, examining the clouds and waves, the wind whipping at his coat and hair. Zolf paused in his work to look at him. Wilde looked as sharp and put together as he had in Hamid’s flat; was that already a year ago now? More? His clothes weren’t so garish as then, but they were clean and well tailored. Zolf was sure that had to be magic, Wilde certainly hadn’t spent the week with a needle doing the repairs. There was a difference too. Wilde stood on the deck, balance shifting as the waves rolled the boat.

“The warding is working well then?” he asked.

“Yes, perfectly well.” Wilde faced him and leaned casually against the hatch that led below. “It’s not practical long term and as I stand here, I think the curse is indeed being laid again.”

“You’d hope they’d have gotten bored.” Zolf huffed.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think they have any sense of time or monotony. This isn’t going away just because I’ve eluded them for long enough.” He was quiet for a moment and then turned and raised his voice. “Barnes, it’s time, Zolf can handle her for a few minutes.”

Zolf closed the small distance between them and asked, “do you think that wise?”

“I’m armed with my magic, besides, you’ve been working with him all morning, do you think it likely that I’m at risk here.”

“No, I’d have said if I thought him suspect.”

“Quite right.” 

Wilde was watching Barnes approach. “Is this really necessary?” Barnes asked.

“I’m going to insist.”

“Right, and how am I supposed to be sure of you.”

“I can give you the same assurances if that’s what you’d like. Can you take my word for Zolf? I understand there’s a squall and we should probably have at least one competent seaman on deck at all times.”

Barnes nodded and went below. Zolf crossed the deck to Barnes' abandoned post and watched as Wilde disappeared as well. 

It wasn’t long before they returned and Zolf realized that knowing changed everything. The knot of worry that had held him all week unraveled and he could see it in the others as well. Barnes walked like a man freed, he’d dropped all wariness of Zolf and now went about the deck with a surety that had been absent. Wilde had of course been hiding all that time so Zolf was less sure that his change hadn’t come from recuperation but he came and lounged on the bench nearby, looking more himself than he had in some time, even going back to before the loss of his cuffs.

“What’s changed?”

“Isn’t it enough to no longer dread betrayal, Zolf?”

“You figured something out.”

Wilde shrugged, “Oh I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to everyone who's read, left kudos or commented.   
> Love and thanks,  
> Prince of Hellebore


	16. Sea Shanties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes and Zolf bond while singing shanties one night.

In the days following the end of their mutual suspicion, the weather was good enough that Wilde was able to come on deck and continue his most basic training in the handling of lines. At the beginning of their sea journey Wilde had nearly been an active hindrance but he was slowly inching towards barely-able seaman after the weeks on deck. The lessons were by necessity short and often ended abruptly with Zolf hurriedly healing Wilde and then Wilde retiring to his protective anti-magic field until the next day. Barnes and Zolf had to share the remaining work of the ship; Wilde was only learning to act as back up in an emergency that they all hoped wouldn’t arise. Barnes took less sleep and saw to their navigation and manning the helm. Zolf for his part took up the cooking as he had mostly been responsible for it so far anyway. He’d let Barnes have a go at it but the resultant mess was nearly inedible and it took near three hours to scour the burnt remains from the pan. After, there was a tacit agreement that Barnes wouldn’t do more than boil water for tea.

In this manner they made slow but certain progress towards Alexandria. The days were quiet and solitary in a way that Barnes and Zolf found eerie after their previous experiences aboard naval ships. 

“I used to think I liked the quiet of night watch.” Barnes said one evening when he and Zolf sat near the helm eating their dinner. “But now that every watch is that quiet it’s…” Barnes shrugged, frowned, and took another bite of his potato gratin. 

“Yeah, it’s certainly different. Even night watch seemed to have this energy, like the sense of the sleeping crew, and of course you weren’t ever alone on watch, not on those ships.” Zolf set his empty plate aside.

“No that’s true, always someone around for a chat.”

“Or a song.”

“Didn’t sing much once I was an officer," said Barnes, “not sure I remember any.”

“I bet you’d remember the callbacks though, can’t say I remember all that many either, not to sing the verse.”

“Aye, probably, funny how they stick in the memory.” Barnes finished his last bite. 

Zolf stood and took his plate and went below to do the washing up. Wilde’s door was open and tied back to keep it from swinging. He lounged in his bed and his own dinner plate rested beside him. He had a notebook and a few pieces of paper set out around him and he was reading. 

“How do you still have paperwork?”

“Your old team managed to dig up a truly phenomenal amount over the month after you left and before they disappeared to Rome.” 

“Right." Zolf knew that tone, it was the sort Wilde used when he wasn't in the mood for interruptions. "I can take your plate.” Zolf stepped into the cabin and took the dish from its spot on the bunk.

“Thank you.”

Zolf saw to the galley and then while he would ordinarily try to go to sleep so that he could take the middle watch he wasn’t quite ready to. He returned to the deck, passing by Wilde's door without so much as a glance. There wasn’t a lot to do on deck, Barnes was keeping their course and under the bright moon visibility was remarkably good. 

Zolf collected a spare bit of rope and started braiding it. After a few moments silence he started singing, “oh I bid farewell to the port and the land/ and I paddle away from brave England’s white sands/ to search for my long ago forgotten friends/ to search for the place I hear all sailors end…” Zolf was surprised that the words kept showing up in his mouth because he’d have sworn he couldn’t remember a single one until the one before was sung. The next line started the chorus and Zolf was surprised when Barnes joined him. They finished singing it together. Barnes didn’t back off of the verses and Zolf was grateful when it turned out he was shakier at the end.

“Well that was apropos, but perhaps a happier one next.” Barnes said.

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t really remember it until I’d started,” answered Zolf.

“Do you remember how this one goes?" He sang the line "way hey and away we go, bonny hieland laddie oh.” 

Zolf fumbled for a bit before coming up with another line. It wasn’t the first line but it kept them going for a little while. 

Almost immediately after Barnes started up another “The Adamant is a ship, my lads…” Zolf hadn’t known it but picked up the call when it was repeated. It was nice to sing, it lightened the mood and made the urgency and danger of their journey fall away. And it made the long labor of the last few days seem distant. Barnes was smiling and so was Zolf. 

There was a lull after that one before Zolf started “Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack…” Barnes started in strong and then went quiet after the third repetition of "don't forget your old shipmate faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe." Zolf supposed he was remembering his old shipmates. Zolf had had friends on _The Talon_ but they’d all drowned in the shipwreck, except for him, and that was years ago now. There were probably sailors Barnes knew, had commanded, that were now infected or carrying out the terrible orders of the fallen Meritocrats. Zolf regretted starting that particular shanty and tried to think of another joyous one but it was as if he could suddenly only think of the sad and melancholy ones. Silence stretched over the quiet water and the two of them on deck. 

Then Barnes started to sing another. “When two lovers meet down beside the green bower…” Zolf was ready to join in but then he caught the fact that Barnes had changed the name Mary to Henry in the first verse. And it seemed to Zolf better to let Barnes sing it alone, certain that there was a reason that Barnes had thought of it. Barnes' voice stayed steady all the way through but Zolf was certain that tears were rolling down his cheeks though it was hard to tell in the twilight. Zolf turned his attention very pointedly towards his little bit of rope that he had been playing with. Barnes wiped his face when he had finished, and then tacked across the wind. The boom swung above Zolf’s head. 

“Who was Henry?” Zolf regretted asking as soon as he had spoken. It felt like a trespass on the silence that had fallen on them.

“Henri,” Barnes gave the name the French pronunciation, “was my third mate.” And then after the briefest hesitation, “and the love of my life, or near as I could imagine.”

“Where is he?”

“He got promoted onto another ship, and then he was lost at sea, in a storm.”

“I’m sorry.” Zolf said. Silence descended again and the mood for singing was gone. Zolf retreated below. Wilde’s cabin door had been shut at some point.

Oscar watched Zolf leave with his plate. He’d heard the quiet murmur of his shipmates’ voices above for the last half hour. The sound had tugged at his attention leaving little for the reading he had set before him. He’d thought of going up to join them but had learned that leaving his protective field always came at a cost. He sighed and again tried to read and did for a little while until he heard Zolf humming in the galley. Oscar looked up from his notebook and stared into the passageway just listening. He didn’t know the tune, though supposed it must be a shanty. His mind wandered a little until Zolf suddenly appeared, walking past his door, and Oscar hurriedly returned his attention to his notebook. His hand, holding a pen, moved to the top of the page to compose, though no words leapt out. He wasn’t interested in inviting conversation and was glad when Zolf didn’t even notice and moved on past and up the ladder. Oscar frowned and shoved the notebook and papers away. Listless, that was the word for his current mood. At least while wearing the cuffs he could move about, could live even if it was without magic. This was almost worse, confined for most of the day to his bunk and then those few hours that he dared take soured by worsening headaches or nausea, or even just the dread of what would come later. 

The sound of singing came from above, Zolf’s voice first, quiet and barely audible until Barnes joined. The initial timidity seemed to fall away and while it was only two voices instead of the chorus of sailors that might carry the tune normally it was still strong enough to be heard clearly through Oscar’s open door. He sat up and opened the port hole too to see if it would allow him to hear better.

Then he stretched out and just listened. The tunes were simple though the words often complex and full of double meanings. Oscar set himself the exercise of memorizing them. It was not a hard task, something that he had been trained in as part of his magical education, and he’d always had a knack for it. He did miss some though as the words were occasionally drowned out by the waves breaking against the boat’s hull. Zolf led the first two and then Barnes started the third shanty about The Adamant and her quest to find a sea serpent. Oscar sang along at the chorus quietly. It was strange to sing with out the resonance of power behind it. And it felt nice to join in on something so communal even though he couldn't join them on deck.

Zolf led another and after Barnes started singing one that Oscar did know. It wasn’t one he could stand to hear, too sad and full of memory and meaning for him. Oscar got up and shut his door and then the porthole and curled up to try to sleep, thinking of Bosie despite himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever try to give characters a good time and then you keep writing and everyone ends up sad, including yourself, yeah that's what I just did. Anyway, I am working on this as my nanowrimo project so as long as that goes well you can expect more frequent updates. As always, I love to hear from you all. Thanks for the comments and kudos.
> 
> Love,  
> Prince of Hellebore
> 
> The songs they sing are as follows:  
> 1\. The Bones in the Ocean  
> 2\. Hieland Laddie  
> 3\. Bonny Ship the Adamant (A rqg-verse version of Bonny Ship the Diamond) (I might one day even write the parody lyrics for it)  
> 4\. Don't Forget Your Old Shipmate  
> 5\. The Banks of the Lee


	17. Overboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boat is chased by an unnatural storm.

Rain continued to pour down on them and waves crashed across the deck drenching them anew every few minutes, not that Barnes or Zolf could tell any longer. They had both been above deck for the better part of two days battling through the worst part of the storm. Barnes had tried his hardest to navigate them out of it but they were either being pushed back towards its center or it was following them. Zolf had washed away their exhaustion a few times just to keep them functional. They had tied guidelines across the deck and each wore a harness with a lead line to keep them attached to the boat. Though neither of these really helped in keeping their feet as the decking was slick from the days of rain. The boat tipped precipitously and Zolf braced against the rail with a hand, holding tight the line he had been working. He fastened it off as the deck passed through horizontal again, before tilting the other way. As Zolf seemed to face now into the depths of the ocean, he thought he could see a great shadow passing below. In the foam and turmoil he couldn’t be sure of its shape. He reached for the guideline as his boots slipped again as a wave sloshed over the planking. Barnes was shouting something, pointing across the deck from where Zolf stood. A great lithe tentacle had broken the surface and wavered over the boat. Zolf froze in shock for a moment and then scrambled towards the helm for the ax stowed there. He wasn’t sure what he might do with it but at least he’d have it. Barnes was already ringing the brass ship’s bell wildly. The clanging nearly lost in the din of the storm. 

“What the hell is that?” Barnes shouted when Zolf was near enough.

“Great sodding tentacle, is all I know!” Zolf yelled back. And then the tentacle fell across the deck at midship. Zolf half expected it to splinter the deck, or at least the railing but it seemed that only the upper third of it had landed on the boat. The tip of it was questing about, wrapping around things before twisting away. He went and hacked at it with the ax. The blow rebounded as if off armor. Zolf raised the ax again and the tentacle whipped into his legs, coiled around him and yanked him off the deck. 

The knot of tentacle wrapped around him retracted into the water like a cannonball. The resultant wave closed over his head with a concussive force and the sound of roaring and thunder. Zolf was dragged down until the long lead attached to his harness caught and pulled tight. The sudden resistance slipped Zolf from the grasp of the tentacle and he was left floating, dazed, as the great storm swells knocked him back and forth. Zolf peered around him and could see about a dozen great undulating columns and below, well below, a glow like a distant furnace with great wheels and gears turning. 

Cold paralyzing fear welled up in him. This was how he’d been shipwrecked before. He hadn’t seen the monster but surely that unnatural storm had been like this one, driven by a kraken chasing its quarry. Unexpectedly warmth poured into him from somewhere, followed by a sense of courage and strength. Zolf knew it was magical in origin but that knowledge made it no less true and powerful. Zolf caught hold of his lead line and hauled on it until he broke the surface. He was close to the ship but couldn’t pull himself back on deck as the railing was still out of his reach. As the ship rocked he caught glimpses of Barnes swinging a cutlass at the tentacles that crossed the deck. Then at the edge of his sense he could hear singing. Wilde’s voice rose above the storm and Zolf felt hope rise in his breast. 

Zolf clung to his rope and tried to climb back on board. One of the tentacles fell across the railing nearby. Zolf had lost his ax but he realized he still had his marlinspike. He pulled it from its sheath and swung over to stab at the tentacle. This one had scales and Zolf managed to pry away one and then jabbed into the inner workings. Parts of it seized up and the whole length of it slid from the ship and crashed into Zolf. He lost his grip on the rope and then hit the water hard, back first, and his breath was knocked from him. 

Zolf was dragged below again by the sinking tentacle. There was an explosion below him and Zolf saw the red light of the furnace below brighten and then either was closed over or went out. Zolf was dragged into turquoise water and then darkness. 

Oscar roused from sleep, if it could be called that. The rolling of the ship as it crested and descended the great swells of the storm was far from the gentle lull he had become accustomed to. There was a cacophony of noise from the storm and ship. Everything seemed to creak or groan, but above that he could hear shouting and the brass clang of the ship’s bell. He’d been warned of its meaning, _danger, all hands. _Oscar knew that it was unlikely he’d be called to deck for the storm. Barnes had made it clear that Oscar was not to come above deck in hazardous conditions. The only reason the bell would be rung to summon him was for a fight. Oscar snatched his un-scabbarded sword from its hook and then just before he reached the ladder to ascend realized it was likely neither of his companions would have more than a knife on them. Barnes’ cabin was nearest and he ducked in. Barnes had a cutlass, which Wilde also grabbed. He decided not to delay longer, his magic would likely be more useful than his sword-work, so Zolf could always take his weapon if needed. Oscar climbed the ladder. It was immediately apparent what danger they had found; towering over the deck were five tentacles, shining and metallic. Oscar clipped his own harness into the nearest guide and looked around for Zolf who was no where to be seen. Barnes was still at the helm, fighting to lock the wheel and Oscar hurried towards him to help.__

__“What the hell are those?” He shouted over the storm._ _

__“Great sodding tentacles.” Barnes yelled._ _

__“Where’s Zolf?”_ _

__“He went over” Barnes shifted the wheel enough that he managed to get the lock set how he wanted. Oscar shoved the cutlass at him which he took._ _

__Then Oscar began to whistle. He hoped the courage it offered would reach Zolf but he couldn’t be sure that it would penetrate the waves. The other thing he wasn’t sure of was how to fight whatever this creature was. Without figuring out where the creatures eyes might be, his illusions would be of little use. He had other spells, but they were less practiced. He chanted out a phrase, summoning a rope of wicked thorns that twisted around a pair of tentacles off the bow. A third tentacle fell across the deck. Barnes fairly pounced on it and hacked away. It seemed fleshy and after a few quick blows was reduced to ribbons by the sharp blade._ _

__Oscar turned his attention to his spell again. The next lines he invented, parodied off the song Zolf had been singing on one of the clear evenings the week prior. It rang like a maladiction in the air. He could feel the resonance of it, like a chorus answering back the call. Oscar continued, improvising the next verse, and surprisingly Barnes echoed the new twisted callback as the chorus started again. Oscar didn’t think Barnes was even the slightest bit skilled in magic but he could feel the strength it lent to his spell._ _

__Oscar stepped to the rail and peered into the water as his words spun out across the waves. He wasn’t trying to stop the wind and waves so much as organize them. As the song turned, he felt the energy build and a burst of force struck downward. The magic traveled as lightning from the stormclouds above and then as a concussive wave into the depths. The power was as waves crashing against the rocks of a cliff. Energy continued to pour downward as lightening struck the waves repeatedly. It gave a static feel to the air, a force that pushed and pulled at Oscar, threatening his balance on the rocking deck. He gripped his guideline and leaned into it and sang still. The tentacles flung back and forth wildly, whipping at the boat. One lashed Oscar, throwing him to the deck, before slipping below the waves._ _

__And then after the wet chill and the bucking of the deck there was stillness and sudden warmth. A sheet of rain fell away across the deck. The boat was suddenly flooded with golden light while the edge of the storm, still furious and dark grey, raged off their stern._ _

__Oscar gasped for the breath that had been knocked out of him, though he seemed otherwise fine if bruised. He clambered to his feet, needing neither rail nor guideline for balance as the boat was utterly still. He looked around. The sea was pure bright aquamarine and was as flat and polished as a skating rink._ _

__They’d been driven into the strangeness of Rome’s fallout._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.   
> Love,  
> Prince of Hellebore


	18. Sick Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf is pulled from Rome's turquoise waters. Barnes finally gets to sleep and Oscar does some writing.

“Zolf!” Oscar said and turned about to find Barnes with his hands already on a taut line which he was trying to haul in. Oscar crossed the deck which shifted only slightly and almost certainly from his own weight crossing the center. The rope descended into the water, but a shadowy figure was being pulled along. Knots twisted in Oscar’s middle. He laid in behind Barnes and helped haul Zolf in, dread boring a pit in his stomach.

They hauled until Zolf hung just below the rail. “I’m holding, go grab his arm or something.” Barnes said. Oscar leaned over the rail and grabbed at Zolf’s harness and worked with Barnes until they were able to roll Zolf’s limp body over the rail. 

Zolf was changed. His hair was pure white and there was something different about his face that Oscar couldn’t place. His eyes were closed. Oscar and Barnes knelt beside him and both started checking for a pulse and signs of breathing. Oscar reached out to Zolf's hand and felt for his pulse, it was very nearly the only medical thing he knew to do. Zolf’s heart was beating, he could feel it there, unless that was his own pounding heart. He put his ear against the dwarf’s chest and listened. No, Zolf’s heart was beating, he was sure now. 

“He’s breathing,” said Barnes.

Wilde nodded, “yes, he’s alive, and not even in a half drowned kind of way…”

“His hair…”

“Spell effect…” Oscar answered quickly. “I would guess at least.” He stood and looked around. The storm ended like a wall some distance now off the stern of the boat. Their previous momentum was carrying them gently away from the border. The sun sat to their East, about midmorning, it was a glowing ominous red orange. “This is Rome. Or rather the fallout, the edge of it. If Zolf tried to do magic… it can go wrong here. Very wrong.” 

Barnes looked up. “No wind, no waves,” he stood and turned on the spot, “the worst doldrums I’ve ever seen.” The surface of the sea was like glass. 

Oscar looked up at the sails. They hung limp and lifeless from the mast.

Zolf had not stirred, Oscar bent to him again. He hesitated, he knew a few simple tunes for healing, but wondered if he should even try them here in Rome. But he couldn’t tell if Zolf was maybe dying even now. Whatever magic had turned his hair white could easily keep working and drain away his life without any other sign. Oscar started to whistle a thin tune, concentrating, gripping Zolf’s limp hand. Zolf’s eyelids flickered and he curled onto his side, away from Oscar, coughing. 

Oscar reached out a hand and laid it on Zolf’s shoulder. “Zolf…” he said, but his body had gone limp again. Oscar’s brow furrowed, that should have been enough to wake him. He tried again, the melody carried on for a few more bars. Zolf stirred again, a groan escaped him as he curled tighter and then he went limp again. Oscar frowned, it had been a long time since he had practiced healing magic; he had never been particularly talented in that area and the need had been minimal at the time. 

It was clear that the whistle was not enough. He whistled again and then used a trickle of magic to carry on the melody and then started to sing. It was like a lullaby, soft and soothing and the words, he didn’t really know what words he was singing, they mattered, but he’d never had a hard time improvising spell words. After two long phrases Zolf woke. He rolled back towards Oscar. There were still words streaming from Oscar’s tongue. Zolf stared up at him for a moment and then sat up. Oscar allowed the music to fade and offered his arm in support when he saw how shaky Zolf was still.

“What happened, did we kill it?” asked Zolf, looking around.

“Injured I think is the best we can hope for. We’re safe for now, from it at least,” said Barnes, he wasn’t looking at Zolf but rather at the line of gray clouds as they pressed up against an invisible barrier. It looked like a knife had sliced through the storm and cut free a slice. 

Zolf leaned heavily into Oscar’s arm, slipping into his embrace. “Are you feeling alright?” Oscar asked worried by the uncharacteristic weakness.

“Yes, I… tired, really…” Zolf turned his head into Oscar’s supporting shoulder and closed his eyes again.

Oscar, feeling a little panicked, started his spell again, singing the phrases he had just uttered and then elaborated on them in a variation. The magic multiplied and then grew past Oscar’s control in a way he hadn’t ever experienced. Zolf jerked awake and before Oscar could stop him, scrambled to his feet and lurched several paces away from Oscar.

He followed Zolf to his feet. “I think you should sit…” The words had barely left his lips when Zolf’s legs buckled, Barnes lunged forward and caught him, and then already just a foot above the deck lowered him carefully the rest of the way.

“Alright…” said Barnes, “what’s wrong?”

“Ongoing effect… I can’t heal that.” Oscar swallowed, that last time his spell had gone weird, dangerously so. “Zolf probably could if he could stay awake long enough. But… I’m not sure I should try again, not here. That last time, something was strange. Like I said, magic frequently goes wrong in Rome.”

“Would putting him in the anti-magic field fix it?”

“Might do… it certainly won’t hurt,” Oscar answered.

“I’ll carry him down.” 

Barnes bent to pick Zolf up, slung him across his shoulders and then went down the ladder ahead of Oscar. Barnes laid him down in the bunk. 

Zolf didn’t wake.

Oscar stood in the doorway of his own cabin. “I was rather hoping that would have fixed it…” said Barnes.

“If it was as simple as that my spell should have done it. The field will protect him and he should heal naturally though that may take some time.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Oscar looked at him confused. “I dare not do more than what I’ve tried.”

“No, your curse.” Barnes indicated Zolf taking up Oscar's bunk. It certainly wouldn't be comfortable to squeeze in with him. 

“I will be alright for a few days. Zolf will hopefully be on his feet by then.”

“And if not?”

“We’ll worry about it then. As it is, I think our largest and first concern should be leaving Rome as quickly as possible." Oscar ran a hand through his hair. "This is not a place to be. It is also incidentally not a place to get caught without authorization. The Mars lot take their task of guarding this place seriously.” 

“No wind, no waves means no movement.” 

“If necessary I can bring us some wind, if we have to," weather magic was another of his weaker skills, he mostly had used it to conjure fog, and with Rome being how it was, he could very easily cause a whirlpool that would drag the boat down as call up a pleasant breeze to fill their sails. "how long do doldrums usually persist?” 

Barnes frowned, “days to weeks.”

“And in Rome, this may just be perpetual.” Oscar looked at Zolf on his bunk.

“How do the Mars lot get around?” Barnes stepped between Oscar and Zolf to bring his attention back to the problem at hand.

“I think they might actually row… as ridiculous as that seems. I wasn’t on a boat the one time I visited the edge of the exclusion zone.”  
“Right… It might not be a terrible thing to just rest for a day, I haven’t slept in… it might be days now. I lost track in the storm.”

“I think a watch should be kept.” Oscar knew that it wasn’t just the Mars cult they had to worry about. There were monsters here, unknown in the rest of the world. 

“I agree.” Barnes said slowly. 

“I’ll take first, you and Zolf were already ragged before the worst of it. I can sit on deck without issue for a few hours.”

Oscar returned to the deck as Barnes went to his cabin and almost certainly collapsed into his bunk, boots and all. Oscar sat in the shade of the sail, the air was the tropical oppression of storm heavy air. And the sun despite its low angle was a furious source of heat. He kept a wary eye on the storm wall and on the horizon all around. But he was sure that the glassy surface would betray any movement below it almost immediately.  
Oscar didn’t know how long he sat on the deck, he thought he would have to move with the shadows to remain sheltered from the glare of the sun but he hadn’t. 

At some point he went to his cabin and collected a notebook and pens before returning to the deck to write. Time passed and the subtle signs of his curse returned, a restless energy, the faint threat of a headache coming. It was small and inconsequential for now. The last few weeks he had chosen not to endure it longer than he had to but he could for days yet if that was needed. After some time working in his notebook he came to a natural stop. He leafed through his latest work. He had recorded the lines of the parodied shanty he had chanted above the roar of the sea as faithfully as he could recall. The other pages covered a synthesis of information regarding the entire ordeal, and then a list of questions, some of them that he would need to direct at Zolf. He wondered what he had seen below the waves, if anything in the roiling water. He sketched, badly, the few tentacles he had seen, the eerie combination of seeming flesh and the scales of metal that shifted over each other, snake like and not. It was a poor rendering and he rounded it out with a written description that he allowed to turn poetic. 

Oscar frowned and counted the pages back, sixteen written full, another ten covered in verse and illustrations. It was the work of at least several hours as his pace had been considered, diligent, and not fevered inspiration. But the sun hadn’t moved. The sea hadn’t moved and the storm hadn’t moved. He stood and decided to at least check on Zolf, perhaps make some food too, Barnes would need to eat when he woke. 

Oscar paused at the ladder something bothering him, something out of place. Nothing had changed in their situation and then he realized the other thing that was so strange. The stillness was underpinned by an eerie and terrible quiet. Maybe it was merely the difference between the din of the storm the last few days and the calmness of current conditions but to Oscar the silence seemed unnatural and threatening. He’d try not to spend too long below, just enough for tea and a quick meal. Oscar descended and went into his cabin first. Zolf was as he had been left, down to the curl of his arm across his broad chest. Oscar left him and went to boil some water for coffee. 

He was found in the galley by Barnes only a little bit later, “How long did I sleep?” he asked.

Oscar shrugged, retrieving a second mug from the rack. “I don’t know.”

“Even you can make a reckoning off the sun.” Barnes said, it was a little teasing.

“The sun hasn’t moved.” Oscar answered.

“What?” Barnes bent and peered out the porthole and when that didn’t provide the perspective he needed, he darted from the galley and Oscar heard him bound up the ladder and onto the deck.

Oscar finished with the coffee and poured two cups, adjusted the sweetness of both and then carried them up on deck.

Barnes was unlashing a crate. He tossed aside a couple things and then came up with an hourglass. He carried it to midship, within reach of the helm and clamped it to the railing. He turned it so that the sand would start pouring.

“I didn’t think it would serve any use. But I guess we will have to use it while we remain here.”

Oscar watched the sand pour out. He was sweating slightly in the sunlight. Blinding white light crossed his vision accompanied by lancing pain in his head. It was like it had been in Portsmouth. _How could they have gotten close? They couldn’t possibly know where he was with enough precision to make this sort of impact. ___

__There were hands on his arms, holding him up with a solid strength. And then the pain was gone. Oscar opened his eyes to see that one of the cups he had carried was smashed at his feet, the other was still clutched in his hand though most of its contents seemed to have been splashed across Barnes._ _

__“Apologies,” he said straightening. He winced as a second lance pierced his temple._ _

__“Are you alright?”_ _

__Oscar’s stomach turned, “It’s… just the curse, it’s interacting strangely with whatever effect surrounds Rome, lessened and then intensified. It’s nothing I can’t tolerate and it’s passed for now.”_ _

__Barnes looked him up and down and shook his head slightly. “I’ve recovered considerably, go below.”_ _

__Oscar frowned at the smashed cup and the one in his hand, it had been his, a little more bitter than Barnes’ preference but he handed it off to him and then stooped to pick up the pieces. “No, I’ll take care of it.” Barnes hand touched his elbow again and pushed him gently towards the ladder. Oscar went feeling wretched that he’d been incapable of picking up the slack for even a day._ _

__Oscar returned to his cabin and found Zolf taking up his bunk. He was short though and there was a few feet where Oscar could sit at the end and slump against the bulkhead and still be within the anti-magic field. He did so and pulled his blanket up around him before almost immediately falling asleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Prince of Hellebore


	19. Rising and Restoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while, but let's just say I was very distracted by recent canon developments. Thanks for sticking with me.

Oscar laid down next to Zolf, thoroughly exhausted. He had spent several hours on the deck, keeping watch while Barnes slept. The time outside of the anti-magic field wore him down more quickly and the few hours he got to rest were only just enough to recover. He and Barnes had acknowledged their desperate situation and then continued on because they didn't really have a choice. Oscar relieved Barnes of duty for as long as he could stand to be above deck and Barnes for his part went on with very little sleep. After a few days stationary in the brilliant aqua of Rome’s glassy sea they had decided they couldn’t wait longer for Zolf to recover. Oscar had nervously called up a wind. It was erratic and blustery and only Barnes skill allowed them to harness it and journey onwards. 

Oscar pulled the second blanket over himself and then fell asleep almost as soon as his eyes closed. Then sometime later, he jolted awake and out of the bed. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears and a tune came into his head. It started to cross his lips. It was the song Oscar had used to mortally wound Bosie. He took a deep breath. He didn’t remember what he had been dreaming, if he even had been… he thought he’d have been too tired to dream; he'd a little bit been counting on it. Oscar took deep breaths to try to calm his shaking hands. It had been awhile since he had dwelled on _that_ night. He dreamed of Bosie often, sometimes pleasantly, but more often not. And Ross had sometimes joined those nightmares. 

Still trying to calm his breathing he looked at the bunk and it’s occupant. It wasn’t tossed the way that it was when he woke from nightmares but poking out from the blanket was Zolf’s metal foot. Oscar laughed, a little manically, if he had rolled over on that he might well have thought it an attack. Oscar hadn’t seen Zolf remove the prostheses more than a few times in their time traveling together and knew he only did so when he decided they were secure in their lodging. Oscar probably should have removed them earlier though he had been reluctant to touch Zolf more than necessary to care for him and removing his legs seemed to cross some line. He frowned, unsure and then after a moment decided it might be for the best. 

He pulled the blanket from Zolf and then gently, gingerly rolled the leg back and forth trying to figure out how to disconnect them. They were not simple. He tested a few things and then… after his investigation was starting to feel too invasive there was the click of a latch and the piece slid free. The other was a match and came free as well. 

When Oscar laid down again he was still full of an energy that made it impossible to sleep. Eventually he curled up at the foot of the bunk, Zolf, as broad as he was, was only half the length. The security of that little distance allowed Oscar to sleep fitfully. It was days before Oscar tried lying down beside Zolf again. As far as Oscar could tell, Zolf hadn’t moved an inch other than what the rocking of the ship had produced. Something twisted up inside him again, pleading him to flee, to turn around and face his certain betrayal, to stop the knife descending. Oscar lay there stubbornly. Knowing, knowing, that he was safe. Hoping. Maybe it was the Roman water that was cursed. Blue veins? Turquoise veins. The absurdity was beyond reasonable. He was so tired though that he pulled his notebook free of the coat that he had flung on the chair. Perhaps writing it down would bring him some peace. Oscar wrote himself a note to consider some of his more outlandish theories of transmission a second time. And then he crossed his arms and set one foot on the floor and closed his eyes. He was fine, he was safe. Zolf wouldn’t betray him because he wasn’t infected. He could trust him.

Zolf opened his eyes. His whole body ached, the sort of ache that belonged to hard labor, and long stillness. He lifted a hand and wiped at his face; his joints felt full of grit. He was staring at the upward curve of the inside hull, but the angle of a cross beam seemed wrong, different from how he remembered the arrangement in his own cabin. And then he concluded, _this must not be my cabin._ He didn’t remember why… _Ah, a hangover._ It felt very much like waking from the worst hangovers he’d endured in his life, many of which had been shipboard. His mouth was dry. His hand stroked down his beard, it was untied. He rubbed at his eyes again and sighed. But if he had been put to bed there was no reason it wouldn’t have been in his own. There was something solid and warm behind him. He felt the slight rise and fall of someone breathing, asleep at his back. In a small panic, he wriggled to turn over without touching whoever it was. Zolf found himself staring at the brown wavy locks of hair on the back of Wilde’s head.

Surprise swept through him, he must have made a sound because the man stirred, minutely. Zolf shifted away until he was pressed against the wall. The closeness of Wilde was unexpected though not entirely uncomfortable. He had no memory of the previous... he assumed night... and could think of no situation which would have put him here of all places.

Zolf sat up fully and was struck with a bout of dizziness. He lowered himself back down and scrunched his eyes closed, hands pressed against them as his head pounded. He tried to channel positive energy and found that his call wasn’t answered. _Ah, yes, of course, Wilde’s bunk was squarely in an anti magic field._

Once the dizzy spell had passed Zolf took a breath and instead of trying to leave the situation he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. He was sharing Wilde’s bunk, the two of them squeezed into the too narrow space. Wilde was practically perched on the very edge, stiff, even in apparent sleep. It was as though he had been trying to give Zolf his personal space even though there was no room to actually do so. Zolf tried to remember what had come before but it was like trying to hold water with in his hands. The last thing he remembered clearly was the days long storm and fighting the kraken and going overboard. Then the water had changed, it had become turquoise and warm and he couldn't tell if that was a remembrance or a dream.

He tried to prop himself on an elbow but even that verticality only made him want to be sick so he gave up on that and instead laid on his side staring at the back of Wilde’s head. The only conclusion he could come to was that he had been gravely ill or injured in a way that only the anti-magic field could protect him. 

Eventually Wilde stirred. He levered himself up to sitting and wiped sleepily at his face. 

He glanced at Zolf and then away and then quickly back again after realizing Zolf was conscious and looking at him. “You’re awake!” His voice was full of relief.

“Yes, I… how long have I been out, I’m not sure I remember fully what happened.”

Wilde shifted so that he sat sideways on the edge of the bed to better face Zolf. “Ten days, I think… the first few days were difficult to keep track of. You went in the drink in Roman waters. We aren’t sure what was actually wrong but the little ability I have for healing wasn’t enough to keep you conscious. You would wake briefly but not remain so. We were worried it would get worse so that’s why you are here in my bunk.”

“Right, the anti-magic field.” Zolf understood, it was extremely sensible.

Wilde started to reach out a hand but returned it to his lap. “How do you feel?” 

“Hungover, really very hungover.” Zolf said honestly.

Wilde stood, he was mostly dressed, though he wasn’t wearing a coat and his shirt was untucked and wrinkled. Then Wilde snapped his fingers impatiently and both his shirt and the tangle his hair were perfectly arranged. He crossed the two paces to the desk and picked up a flask and cup and poured some water. He brought it back to the bed and handed it to Zolf. Zolf propped himself up on an elbow and took it from Wilde’s hand. Their fingers overlapped briefly. Wilde stepped away again quickly.

“We’ve been sharing for ten days then?” Zolf asked after a long drink from the cup.

Oscar shrugged and nodded. 

Zolf looked at him piercingly, “You don’t look like you’ve slept a wink.”

“I’ve been helping Barnes as much as I can.” 

“Of course. Has it been getting worse then?”

“Do I look so terrible? It was strange in Rome and I never really recovered from that. In the field I can sleep but it doesn’t really get better now.”

Zolf nodded. He held out the cup, which was now empty. “More?” Oscar asked, taking it back.

“No,” Zolf sat up more fully, he paled briefly before swallowing. Oscar glanced around for his bucket, all too familiar with the signs of seasickness, but it passed before Oscar had it unclipped from it’s place. “If you can help me up I think I have a spell to cure whatever was wrong with me. I just have to get out of the anti-magic field.” He had a hand pressed into the thin mattress to steady himself as he swung his legs to the edge of the bed. Then he realized that his prostheses were missing. 

“I hope it’s not an intrusion to have removed them, you kicked me once.”

Zolf laughed. “It’s fine, I usually take them off to sleep if I don’t fear needing to suddenly make a run for it. Which I mostly have the last few months.”

“They’re just here.” Oscar bent and pulled them from where he had tucked them behind the leg of his desk. Zolf fussed with the sockets until the connections were aligned and latched. He swayed just enough that Oscar extended a hand in support, though he left it hovering just by his shoulder without touching Zolf. After a moment's hesitation, Oscar moved his hand, offering it instead for Zolf to take if he liked.

“Sorry, a bit dizzy.” Zolf put his hand in Oscar’s and rose from the bed. As soon as Zolf took the single step necessary to leave the bounds of the field Oscar could feel it: healing magic soaked into him. The background symptoms that he had learned to ignore for the last ten days lifted. Oscar closed his eyes and took the little bit of joy he could in it. The curse at bay and his own magic thrumming in him. The reprieve was as short as the time Zolf remained casting his spell. When his hand left, Oscar, attuned now to the feeling of that miniscule leeching, recognized the return of his curse.

“Get some sleep Oscar.” 

“I’m glad you’re alright, we were worried when you didn’t wake after a few days.”

“Takes more than a kraken to get rid of me.” Zolf smiled.

“Barnes will be happy. He’s been thoroughly discouraged by my progress in my sailing lessons.”

Zolf chuckled and left the cabin.

Oscar laid down and luxuriated in the return of his bunk, hard and horrible as it was. He was asleep almost immediately.

Zolf climbed to the deck and sighed. He had disspelled the distorted magic he had found and then cured himself of his exhaustion and few leftover physical symptoms while still in Wilde’s cabin. He’d spent as much on healing Wilde who was as near a wreck as Zolf had ever seen him. 

“Oi, You’re up, about time.” Zolf turned to see Barnes at the helm.

“Leave off, didn’t see you swimming in Rome.”

“Wilde told you then.”

“Not much, and I didn’t press him, he seemed absolutely exhausted.”

“Yeah, he’s been worried about you. He’s barely slept, as far as I can tell.”

Zolf stopped a few strides from Barnes. Barnes had dark circles under his eyes and seemed to be holding the wheel to remain standing upright. He was swaying but it was difficult to tell how much of that was exhaustion and how much was the ship pitching in the waves. There was a strong wind and the sails were billowing and full. 

“Are _you_ alright?” Zolf asked.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping for a week.” Barnes grinned lopsided.

Zolf shook his head, smiling grimly, “can’t give you that long I’m afraid.”

“Five hours? Gods, what wouldn’t I do to sleep five hours.”

“Go, take as much as you can. I’ll get you when I can’t continue.” Zolf stepped up to take the helm. “What’s the heading?”

“Due East, best you can.”

“Right. Come here.” Zolf reached out and laid a hand on Barnes arm. He didn’t wash away all the exhaustion with magic, Barnes would find sleep difficult if it all disappeared, but he took some of it. 

“Gods, I missed that. Keep an eye. I think I’ve seen sails to our North and West. I don’t think I’d like to meet anyone if we can avoid it. Not with how previous encounters have gone.”

Zolf turned to look, peering across the horizon for the hint of a sail. “Right, nor would I. Have you let Wilde know?”

Barnes shook his head. “No, I’m still not even sure I’ve seen them. Or that they are even following. I just have a bad feeling.”

Zolf nodded solemnly. “I know what you mean. I guess get some rest while you can.”

Barnes had already turned away and raised his hand in acknowledgment as he started down the ladder, leaving Zolf on deck alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading,
> 
> Love,  
> Prince of Hellebore


End file.
